InsaneJournal

FIC: The Darkest Rose
Title: The Darkest Rose
Rating: light R
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Warnings: vampirism, prostitution, kissing, and brief reference to rough!sex (I wouldn't necessarily consider this OOC, but both the main characters have changed within reason)
Disclaimer: This was done entirely for fun – the boys aren't mine, and I have no intention of ever claiming them as such.
Original Request: a classical instrument of some fashion, oddly colored roses (fire or black), a letter of some kind.
Author's Notes: WC: ~ 10, 600. I did my best to fulfill the original requests; I was a musician myself for a little over 10 years, so I'm sorry I couldn't incorporate more of that aspect in here, but it's there! Thanks to my lifesaving beta confiteor_3.




It was dark and freezing on this moonless London night, and an equally dark, possibly colder man stood motionless in an empty street that ran a crooked path through a deplorable part of town. Hood drawn up, cloak gently swirling around his feet, it had become a ritual for him to stand in this street and stare at the dilapidated building on its western side, shrugging off the cold or the rain, still and silent until he made his first step towards the building, then not stopping until he was inside. It looked to be an old hotel, forgotten and neglected by its patrons. A weathered, wooden sign hung from one chain over its cracked French doors, advertising nothing but a single black rose. The man sighed deeply, as if preparing himself for some truly melancholy event, then took his first step towards The Darkest Rose.

The aging double doors opened with twin creaks and gave way to a small anteroom with a single oil lantern glowing inside. The man pulled those doors shut behind him and took hold of the polished silver handle in front of him that belonged to a smaller but clearly much more expensive door with yet another rose stretching up its length. He twisted the handle and pulled that door open, gasping imperceptibly from the sudden rush of warm air that surrounded him and billowed the fabric of his cloak, though he was quite used to the occurrence by now. To see the inside of The Darkest Rose was to step into a world completely separate from the one outside it, introducing a luxury and twisted opulence such as this area of the city had never seen. What from outside looked like a decaying inn was, in actuality, one of the most well-renowned, decadent brothels in all of London whose interior was composed entirely of dark woods, rich upholstery, and bouquets of its namesake.

The lobby was regularly scattered with several women in nearly respectable states of undress, usually an elegant gown modified to have some slight flaw – a lowered back, risqué neck-line, barely visible thigh-high slit, or an errant sleeve that slid off the shoulder too often to be accidental. The ground floor was the Ladies' Floor, so they had free reign over the entryway, but they were experienced enough to know that when a man walked in that door, heading straight for the main desk, sparing only a fleeting, burning glance for the second floor landing, their charms were neither appreciated nor desired, and they saved their efforts. As Severus stepped inside and cut himself off from the cold of the world, however, he looked only ahead of him, and the women knew to stay away anyhow. He made his way straight to the extravagant desk, fashioned out of all the dark wood the rest of the lobby was carved from, and caught the attention of the woman behind it. The long, soft curls that hung down her back bounced slightly as she turned at the sound of her name, smiling when she saw who had come to call on them.

"Professor! Been a week already, has it? I just don't know what happens to my days anymore; they all seem to vanish before I know they've come!"

The man pulled back his hood to reveal a plain, if not worn and tired face, a small smile gracing it for the woman's sake. "Even an eternity of days does not seem enough at times."

The young woman grinned. "Now, Professor, don't make me tell Owyn how maudlin you're being or he's liable to stick you with one of the cheerful ones." She rolled her eyes as if that was something she'd had to suffer often. "I wouldn't like to have to do that to you, you know."

"Thank you, Ana. Will you tell him I'm here, please?"

She nodded and picked up the silver telephone behind the desk. "Owyn? The Professor is here…yes, alright, love." She hung up and smiled at him again. "He'll only be a moment, Professor – make yourself comfortable if you wish."

He nodded in thanks, walked to the foot of the wide sweeping staircase and stood, pointedly ignoring the multitude of couches and leather armchairs around him. He wished they wouldn't call him 'The Professor', but every one of their regulars seemed to have a pseudonym of some kind, and as soon as the Master of the boys had been able to get him to confess his former employment, Severus Snape became 'The Professor' in The Darkest Rose, and he was thrown back into the days when he was a snarky bastard who dealt daily with brats of the most infuriating nature. He hadn't disliked teaching, per se, he only disliked pounding information into the minds of children who seemed to have developed skulls of concrete. Not that it mattered anymore; Severus hadn't seen the inside of a classroom in a little over a year, and he doubted he would ever see one again.

"Professor!" A man around his age, who could have easily passed for Lupin's brother and was dressed in one of the few things in the fashion world that could actually be described as elegantly-casual, descended the stairs and came towards Severus with his hand outstretched. "Good to see you again, sir; sorry for the short notice, but I reckoned you wouldn't mind coming in a bit early."

"Hello, Owyn."

"There's been a bit of a change in your arrangements," Owyn said, pausing briefly to gesture up the stairs and began climbing them to reach The Gentlemen's Floor. "We lost Ben a few days ago, car accident; all the boys are still pretty shaken up."

Severus nearly choked on a wave of protective energy before he shoved it back down into his gut, refusing to confuse instinctual survival emotions for any feeling he had for some boy he'd only visited once a week for a few months. "Oh. That is unfortunate; you have my condolences."

Owyn waved him off. "Yes, well, these things happen. I won't pretend I don't miss the little whelp, but life goes on and so must we with it. In any case, I know you preferred each time with the same boy, so I have another that I think would serve you well. He's a Squib, so he says, and since Ben's gone, he and Jamie split all the…more interesting clients, so I doubt he'll be averse to your request. He's only been here about five months, but I've heard nothing but praise since he arrived. He's nowhere else to go, either, so I'll threaten to expel him if he exposes you in any way, and that should be sufficient; he seems to take orders well enough." Owyn chuckled as he flung open a door and began walking down the long corridor. "Makes him something of a coveted being on the Top Floor, though I don't let him go up there very often; he's still a bit young for what most of those men want." He paused at a door with a silver "19" plated onto it and knocked. "Oi, Devon! You dressed? Your all-nighter's here."

Severus heard a muffled thud followed by a "Yeah, 'm coming!", and the gentle thud of bare feet on hardwood.

When the door finally opened it revealed a young man, probably just barely in his twenties, with tousled light brown hair and dark chocolate eyes – his looks were unremarkable as far as boys in his profession usually went, but his…presence wholly made up for it. Just the defiance and casual power displayed in his stance was enough to ignite the slightest heat in Severus's gut until the boy's gaze was turned from Owyn to himself and the boy's eyes widened; he gasped sharply and slammed the door in their faces. Owyn stared at the door in shock and Severus sighed, praying silently that the boy wasn't the son of some obscure Death Eater and had recognized him, or worse, a child from one of the families they'd torn apart.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Devon? Open this door!"

Severus shook his head and pushed down another wave of hunger. "Perhaps I should return when Jamie isn't –"

The door reopened to reveal the boy – Devon – looking quite shamefaced, his eyes lowered, a gentle flush coming over his face. "Forgive me, sir; that was inexcusably rude. You reminded me of someone I met on the street once." He glanced up briefly with a little, apologetic smile. "Not a nice guy."

The man next to Severus glared and folded his hands across his chest. "Words, boy. We will be having them later. Several of them," Owyn said in a low, threatening voice, his frown disapproving.

"Let him be, Owyn. His explanation is a reasonable one. I have received treatment far worse, I can assure you, and he did apologize."

The boy looked up at him, having a visibly difficult time restraining himself from gaping openly. He had obviously expected some sort of horrific punishment, but Severus was far too tired at this point in the week to do much but drag himself to The Darkest Rose and go along with anything that happened. The Master grunted. "Very well." He looked at Devon expectantly and the boy had grace enough to recover from his apparent shock.

"Please, come in."

Devon's room was equal to Ben's in size and eloquence, complete with an enormous bed, a small fireplace cornered in by a loveseat and a few chairs, and a large chest at the bed's foot that contained every depraved item known to man that would not readily spill blood (the blood spilling items were located a floor above them). Everything was decorated in the same motif as the rest of the building – old, dark, luxurious – but the air was different here. Where the lobby always smelled of the dark roses with which it was decorated, the boy's room smelled of leather, and something spicy, and a muted hint of that ever-present rose. Severus followed Owyn and Devon's lead when they sank into the furniture around the fire and prepared for yet another awkward conversation about why he was here.

"Now, gentlemen, shall we get to business?"

"Really, Owyn, I think we can manage on our own."

So he was a cheeky one, this new boy. At least Severus hadn't been stuck with one of the cheerful ones Ana had threatened him with – they were always hugging him and draping themselves all over him, promising to mend broken hearts with kisses and broken dreams with a night worth dying for. Severus couldn't stand them.

"Just a minute, Devon, I must explain the situation. The Professor does not visit this establishment for…the usual fare."

The boy's laugh echoed throughout the room, and for a moment, Severus was sure he'd heard it somewhere before, but he brushed it off as nothing.

"Not to be cheeky, Owyn, but who comes here for anything usual?"

The Master smiled affectionately. "Point. But our Professor here is even more unusual – you'll be spending the night in bed, Devon, but not with him."

"He likes to watch?"

Owyn smiled wanly and looked to Severus to provide the explanation as to why he was there. Severus complied with an internal sigh of resignation. "Devon, I am a vampire. I come here once a week for feedings; a simple bite, no conversion, but it can be somewhat painful and it will most probably make you pass out so I will pay you for an entire night of lost income. I'll leave you a Blood Replenishing potion, but you'll likely feel no affects from it at all after a night's sleep."

Devon looked back and forth between the two men, his face portraying disbelief and anxiety in equal measure until Owyn spoke up again. "He won't hurt you, Devon, honestly. The Professor's been coming here longer than you've been working here, but he had Ben before you. I won't force this on you, but most boys would jump at the chance to have a paid night off, and you'll be guaranteed one every week."

"No…I mean, yes, you're right, of course; and yes, I'll do it."

"Are you sure now, boy? Because I can get –"

"I think we can handle it from here, Owyn – thanks." The boy sent a smouldering look over at his new client as if to prove his willingness.

The older man nodded and stood. "Excellent. Professor, if you need anything, Devon knows what to do. Good night, gentlemen." And with that, they were alone.

Severus had never been one for small talk, so as soon as the door clicked shut, he began undoing the fastenings on his cloak, bringing his hunger pangs back to the surface of his mind so that they could be satisfied. "Thank you for this, Devon. I know it's an unusual request, but –" He cut off when he realized the boy was hunched over in his chair, head in his hands, slowly shaking it back and forth. How very unprofessional. He was whispering something as well. "Sit up right, boy, I won't hurt you; and speak up."

"I can't do this." The steady mantra was broken as that one piece of it was uttered loudly and pushed towards Severus.

The older man sighed and stood, laying his cloak over the back of the chair, his patience hanging by a thread. He was hungry, and tired, and this was beginning to be annoying. "It's nothing to be so melodramatic about, but if you are indeed uncomfortable with the arrangement then…" he trailed off. This boy had seemed so strong too, which was not something he could usually say for whores of his age; but then, there was a reason Severus came here instead of picking up someone from the street. He was somewhat relieved, but only more confused when Devon shook his head.

"Yes, I am uncomfortable, but not for the reason you think." He paused, as if on the verge of making some monumental decision before he sighed and stood as well, heading for the bathroom. "Wait here. And you should probably sit down again before I come back." The boy disappeared into the adjoining room and Severus took his advice to sit, though he was now more than slightly annoyed with his new food supply. He was still too tired and hungry to do much more than stare into the flames jumping behind the hearth, and so he remained until the door to the bathroom squeaked open a sliver and he turned to look.

"Are you sitting, sir?" He knew that voice, why did he know that voice?

"I am."

He heard a sigh from behind the door and then it was flung open, revealing the boy once again, but this time, he looked entirely different – and yes, Severus would have fallen over had he been standing.

"Potter?! What in hell's existence are you doing here?!" Yes, it was Potter, it had to be! That black, eternally messy hair, skinny hips, faded scars on his neck and forehead, and the eyes, of course, no one ever forgot those. But Potter…here? The Darling of the Wizarding World holed up in a mixed brothel, disguising himself and using a fake name, having just agreed to let his hated vampire of an ex-teacher feed from him. This was truly apocalyptic.

Potter looked on in amusement as he saw the range of emotions pass over Severus's face, and finally his eyebrows rose as he answered the question. "I'm working, Snape. Apparently tonight I'm working for you."

"Polyjuice?" Potter nodded. "Give me a reason to believe you are who you say you are." That's it. When all other speech fails, revert to habit. Severus had spent too much of his life spying and lying and watching throats being split open in the night to put all his faith in the word of some rentboy.

The boy sighed in frustration and collapsed onto the chair across from him. "Your name is Severus Snape, you were the Hogwarts Potions Master, and my Occlumency could use a lot of work."

"Any educated wizard in a thousand miles could tell me those truths, boy; give me something else."

The boy looked down at his feet and spoke more softly, but with the same level of conviction. "You sent me a letter every week after my sixth year. The first one started with 'Don't you dare burn this, you brat'. I tried anyway, but you'd charmed it and it transferred the flame to my robes instead. And I got this scar," the boy pulled the neck of his shirt down over his shoulder, revealing a thin line of marred flesh, "when you pulled a dagger out of my shoulder during a raid. That was the last time I, or anyone else I know, saw you. You called me an 'idiot boy'."

Severus nodded; it all fell together now – the incident at the door, the voice, the power he radiated – this wasn't a spell or his weakened mind playing tricks on him, this was Harry Potter, in the flesh and spirit. But…

"But…why are you here, Potter?" his voice finished his mind's pressing question.

Potter chuckled. "I already told you, Snape, I work here."

"Yes, but for what? Undercover Auror Squad? The Order?"

The boy sighed and picked at an invisible imperfection on his chair. "No, I work here, for Owyn, as a prostitute. A rather decent one, so I've been told."

Severus stared at him, jaw clenched until he could think of something to say. "Potter, you could have any job you wanted even if you were late every morning and were utterly rubbish at it. And if you didn't want to work I'm sure one of the Weasley fold would have taken you in. Why would you choose…this?"

He stopped picking at his chair and looked at the older man with a weary expression. "When you disappeared you really disappeared, didn't you? When's the last time you read the Daily Prophet?"

Severus shifted in his seat, remembering the cause of his disappearance all too well. "I have not had any contact with the wizarding world in over two years, I was not even aware of the outcome of the war until a few months ago." Harry gave him a look that was equal parts astonishment and curiosity, but Severus shook his head. "Later. Right now, I wish to know how the most celebrated man in the world came to decide that his talents and power should be squandered while he sells himself to men who…" are beneath him he wanted to finish, but restrained himself. "I did not spend countless tedious weeks training you so that you could waste it in this manner. Explain yourself, Potter."

"Everyone I love is dead, Snape."

The tale the boy wove after Severus’s stunned silence was not as long as he imagined. Potter chanted death after death in a monotonous mantra as though he’d done so a thousand times before, but with each name, a little of the light in his eyes faded until the Final Battle was told and he sat slumped in his chair, a portrait of brokenness. His cheeky, dynamic façade was worn away to leave a boy underneath, aimless and alone, and one that Severus knew had been there all along. When he looked up at the older man, all Severus could manage for comfort was an awkward frown, but it seemed to be good enough for Potter. The boy's mouth turned up slightly at the corners and he sprawled out on the chair again, apparently unaware that he had been curling into himself throughout the story.

"Oh, but you haven't heard the best part yet."

Severus was reminded of just how young and mood-driven Potter was as he started on the next part of his story. The lost little boy was gone, and in his place sat the young man, the warrior, to whom Severus had written for all those long months. This was the man who had won the war, who had faced down the most evil man in existence and defeated him. This was the man Severus had helped create.

"After the war and all the celebrations, people needed a new focus for their fear after living with it so long. The magic I did to defeat Voldemort was powerful…elemental almost, like I didn't even know it was there. Everyone knew, of course, and knew how many people had died because of it. They also knew how withdrawn I'd become, barely leaving my house, snapping at anyone who dared talk to me, depressed…they all thought I was going to crack; one more word and I'd be mental. So the Daily Prophet started printing stories about how I'd gone mad and was holing myself away so that I could learn enough to be the next Dark Lord. Funny how quickly people will turn on you.

"When the articles came out, the Ministry started sending me letters, inviting me to balls and parties, trying to win me over, but I refused every one, so they started to get nervous. Remus was the only one left, the only person I would see, and he warned me; he told me to be careful, that I was walking into dangerous territory, but I didn't listen. After a few months of rumors, an squad of Aurors came to the house and kindly informed me that I was considered a threat to the Ministry and the Magical World at large and that if they caught a trace of my magical signature again, I would be considered a criminal and would be put to death."

Finally, the boy took a breath, a sneer and a clenched jaw the outward signs of his rage. "At first I thought it was just the arsehole bureaucrats afraid of losing their self-importance, but then I started getting letters from kids asking me to please not blow them up, and I knew the Ministry had finally won – their world was saved, and they were relieved of the danger of losing their power. They started sending Aurors to spy on me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I slipped and blasted one. Then one night, I woke up all of a sudden, like I had during the war, and someone was leaning over me. I had stopped sleeping with my wand, but I had a knife under my pillow just in case, and before I knew what I'd done, the man had my knife between his ribs and was moaning on my floor.

"I panicked – I summoned my wand and cast a layered healing spell until he stopped bleeding, but it was too late; there was no way they wouldn't have detected my signature through that kind of spell. I felt the wards of the house being breeched, so I Apparated to Hogsmeade, and from there I went anyplace else my mind could think of, to try and throw them off the trail. When I finally collapsed, I was in the play yard of my old primary school, so I ran back to the neighbourhood where I grew up. I didn't want to go to my aunt and uncle's, and I knew that'd be one of the first places the Aurors would look, so I went to a neighbour's house, one I knew would take me in."

Harry smiled a bit at this memory, but continued on. "I was a heap on her doorstep when she opened up, I started to think maybe she wouldn't take me in after all, but she just said 'Harry dear, what sort of trouble have you got yourself into now?'. She hid me for a few days, but I knew the Aurors would figure it out soon enough, and I didn't want her to get into trouble, so I lied and told her I had a rich girlfriend in London so that she would smuggle me out and bring me into the city. I stayed away from anyplace I recognized, and tried to find a job, but it's hard to get one when you don't really exist. I had no papers, no home, no clothes, nothing. One night, about a week after first getting into London, I begged in the back door of some club to wash dishes and they let me in. In the morning, the kitchen manager told me to go wash up a bit, and when I came back he said he'd pay me extra if I…sucked him off. I was desperate for money, so I fumbled my way through it and ended up having enough to eat for a few days. I hardly let myself think about it, I just knew I had to survive." Harry paused again, clearly having difficulty with the rest of his story.

"I tried the whole dignity thing, Snape, and all it got me was maybe a day's worth of work in a week and a street corner to sleep on. I went back to that club a few weeks later and found the kitchen manager again. Soon enough I was working half their staff and the club owner offered to rent me one of their rooms upstairs and I took it, thinking it was probably the best I would ever get and knowing that I had finally found something I seemed to be good at that I could survive on. Then one night, Owyn walked in; he told me to give him the best I had, and I did. Afterwards though, he didn't leave. He started talking to me, asking lots of questions, getting to know me like. It had been so long since I had someone to really talk to that I almost forgot all my training and spilled everything, but I didn't. Finally he mentioned The Darkest Rose and told me that I had a job working for him if I wanted it, so," he smiled weakly, gesturing to the room around them, "here I am."

Severus stared, speechless for a moment until he realized Harry was squirming self-consciously under his gaze, so he filled the silence.

"As much as I loath to say this, you should have taken Lupin's advice. He would know better than most the way the Ministry has a tendency to ruin lives. How are you able to get the potions you need if the Aurors are looking for you?"

"The other wizard, Jamie, he takes a lot of the magical clients, and he has some who brings him potions and things from Diagon Alley; he gets Long-Lasting Polyjuice for me, and I only use it whenever I have a Wizarding client so he won't recognize me."

Severus grunted and frowned disapprovingly.

"I'm happy here, Snape," Harry said softly. "Owyn takes good care of me, I have friends, I always have food and a place to sleep – it's more than I would have if I were still in our world."

"But…" Severus paused. Why should he care anyway? He was just here for blood, and if Potter happened to be here too then so be it. He just didn't want to reconcile himself with the fact that the young man before him had once been such a wide-eyed child, only wanting to be good and innocent, and now only wanted to survive by resigning himself to a life of prostitution. Severus wasn't so dense, however, to believe that he cared nothing for the boy; he had invested far too much in him and now it had all gone to waste – or, at least, he convinced himself that was the reason. "Well, I suppose it's none of my business what your current profession is, Potter, but I would like to reiterate that you are wasting your hard-earned skills on these common…" A light went out in Harry's eyes at Severus's obvious disapproval, and he had a sudden desire to rekindle it. "I am quite impressed, however, with your ability to survive, even under such unfortunate circumstances. You do seem quite cheerful despite everything you've been through; it is a trait I have long admired in you."

Harry smiled at him from under thick lashes and Severus noted the light was back. "You’re being nice to me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter; I am not, have never been, nor intend to ever be nice."

He rolled his eyes. "Decent, then; you haven't sneered at me since you got here, and you haven't once mocked me for falling so low."

"Yes well, it seems frivolous for me to sit here and insult you, even though it is one of my favourite pastimes, when I have much more serious problems on which to waste my energy."

Harry's smile morphed into a concerned frown. "The vampirism? Tell me - what happened?"

"A parting gift from the Dark Lord – I was turned after he became suspicious of me, or perhaps just because his other minions wanted a bit of sport. Unfortunately, he didn't know as much about vampires as he thought, and as soon as the one they had captured turned me, he had enough temporary power to overthrow the wards and we Apparated to his coven. I'm not quite sure how long I was there, but when I returned, I tried getting in contact with a few of my old acquaintances and the only one I heard back from was Lupin – I assume he's been forced into a colony otherwise you would have run to him, correct?" Harry frowned and nodded, plans for unpleasant revenge on the government forming behind his eyes. "He said he knew a few vampires who fed from willing wizards and a week later he sent me the address to this place with a note telling me to ask for Owyn. He set me up with Ben, and I've been coming here once a week for about six months."

"Only once a week? I thought new vampires had to feed more often than that."

"You heard that from the Ministry no doubt. The bloodlust is usually mild enough to keep to weekly feedings, plus I brew a few potions that alleviate some of the symptoms."

Harry smiled. "Well, it's already late; I'm sure you were hungry long before you walked in the door, so let's call it a night, yeah?"

Severus nodded, finally giving himself up to the hunger hovering at the edges of his mind. He stood, and Harry followed his lead, unsure of how to proceed for perhaps the first time in months.

"So, how do we do this?" he asked, looking nervous but determined.

"It's simple – just get in a position that's comfortable for you and I'll do the rest."

Harry laughed. "That's usually what I say."

Severus rolled his eyes and stopped a smirk from pulling up his lips. "When I was with Ben, he laid down so I wouldn't need to move him when he passed out, but you can do what you like." Harry shrugged and moved towards the bed. "You may want to take your shirt off – it's your first time and you'll likely pull away and bleed a bit…tell me, Mr Potter, do you giggle like a hopeless virgin girl with all your clients or am I the only one witness to such unprofessional behaviour?"

Harry had stopped giggling and progressed to full-on laughter now. Somehow he managed to gasp out the words "just" and "you" while pulling his shirt off. Severus waited for his fit to die down and watched Harry crawl into bed, a slight wriggle of his hips the only seduction in the movement as he laid against his pillows, hands crossed and locked around his wrists behind his neck. The hunger that had been building up throughout the week was aching all throughout his body, head and fangs throbbing with the need for blood, thick and sweet and young, and he nearly launched himself towards the bed, on top of Harry laid out for him. He swallowed that temptation and walked over to the edge of the bed. Placing his palms on either side of Harry's head, he leaned in and pressed his forehead to the skin just above the boy's collarbone.

"Ready?" he whispered, tilting his head up only when he felt Harry's head move above his in a nodding motion. Severus nudged his face into the hollow between Harry's jaw and shoulder and pressed his lips to the unfamiliar neck there in an open almost-kiss. Harry's intake of breath was a little sharper as he mapped the boy's veins and deep vessels with his mouth and finally found a good spot where he wouldn't do too much damage. He pulled away slightly to extend his fangs and scraped them lightly against Harry's skin to let him know what was coming. Severus sank those long teeth into the skin beneath his lips and it parted like butter, tasting equally as rich and sweet. The boy didn't pull away, but he gasped as those fangs sank into his neck and moved a hand to the back of Severus's head, gripping firmly in his hair as he pulled them out and began to drink. It took long minutes for Severus to get all he needed, but Harry didn't squirm and whimper as Ben had; all Severus felt was hot breath against the side of his face and every now and then a few nails scratching gently on his scalp.

Once he felt Harry's grip in his hair slacken and savoured the shiver that ran down his spine as that hand slid down his neck and over his back to lie limply on the bed, Severus licked the small wounds shut and pulled away from his neck, licking away a few stray smears of blood as he went. He placed the promised potions on Harry's bedside table and grabbed a throw from the sofa to cover the young man who looked far more like a boy now that he was lost in sleep. Two fading marks on Harry's neck and seven extra Galleons on Harry's modest dresser were the only signs of Severus's presence as he slipped out the door and back through the lobby of The Darkest Rose, and for once it did not feel quite so dark and cold as he knew it to be.


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The months passed, and each week Severus ventured to The Darkest Rose and Harry. Usually they had tea or drinks of some sort and a pleasant conversation before Harry would lie down on the bed and let Severus feed from him, and the man had no objection to that; he knew Harry was likely to be lonely, especially having no one from his adolescence as a companion – Severus was the next best thing. When Harry told him how much he was spending on Polyjuice potion, Severus made over fifty doses and made him promise never to buy "whatever poisonous sludge they're passing off as Polyjuice potion these days" again. He caught Harry under a glamour that Jamie had cast on him after a particularly nasty night on the Top Floor and Severus scolded him fiercely while casting his strongest healing spells on both Harry and the other boy who had taken the job with him. Soon his meetings with Harry were becoming the high point of his week. An errand that had previously made him feel grotesque, bitterly alone, and reminded him of his horrible life amongst the Death Eaters was now one he looked forward to in the same way he had once looked forward to outings to Diagon Alley and the countryside when he was a young child. Even Severus would say they were forming a friendship from their regular meetings, but outside of the weekly visits, they never saw each other. He should not have been surprised then, when Harry looked shocked to see him only five days after their last liaison – at least it was a far cry from having the door slammed in his face.

"Hullo, Severus. Please, come in." They both took chairs by the fireplace and Harry kept glancing at the clock on the wall. "Sorry, but this'll have to be quick; I have someone coming soon."

"Not as quick as you think. I am your patron for this evening."

Harry cocked his head, looking as puzzled as he had when he saw who was at the door. "You need blood again?"

"No, I am here on different business." Harry's face fell almost imperceptibly, no doubt thinking that Severus had finally given in, and had come to see him exactly as others had, as just a whore. Luckily, he could not be further from the truth. "Some acquaintances of mine are quite adept at the Muggle style of music, and invited me to join them for a sort of performance tonight. I was encouraged to bring a guest, and I wondered if you might enjoy a night out with me."

Harry stared at him blankly, but a little grin began to creep up his face. "This is what you bought me for?"

"Yes. Of course, if you don't want to, you needn't come with me –"

"Just let me change."

Ten minutes later, clad in tight dark grey trousers and a silky sapphire blue dress shirt, Harry pressed himself to Severus's chest and let the older man's arms tighten around him for Side-Along Apparition. As Severus felt the pressure of magic surround them and squeeze them even closer together, he became viscerally aware of Harry's pulse beneath his skin and pressed his face into the hollow between the boy's shoulder and jaw. The scent there, at Harry's neck, was so strong, Severus felt strangely dizzy and got an irresistible longing to lick something. Anything. He pressed his lips to the flesh underneath and opened them, letting his tongue through to taste…just a little lick. Oh, that was it; that blood so close and the taste of Harry on his tongue and in his mouth and he wanted more, but a voice in his ear was calling him back. Once his head stopped spinning and he listened to that voice - 'Severus' - he realized his fangs were dangerously close to piercing skin, and he quickly retracted them, drawing away from Harry's neck in shameful horror.

"Forgive me, Harry; I've not lost control like that in a long time." When he looked up, he half expected the boy to run in terror or mock him, but Harry just had a brilliant smile on his face and showed no sign of being scared out of his mind.

"Don't apologize; though I'd be more flattered if I intoxicated you on my own merits rather than what runs in my veins." Then the little bastard winked at him!
Severus shook off the last of his delirium and released Harry, glad when the boy seemed content to drop the subject in favour of studying their surroundings. He turned back to Severus with that grin still in place – he had to wipe it off.

"Five o'clock, Potter."

Harry's grin didn't fade – he didn't even blink. "Two females, young, formal dress and demeanour suggests minimal threat, but there's a drug addict at seven who hasn't had a fix in days, so keep an eye on him. And I'm not a soldier anymore, Snape."

Impressive – Harry had managed to retain at least one of the skills Severus had drilled into his brain. "One never ceases to be a soldier, Harry; you should know that by now."

Severus began striding down the street, and the boy followed in his wake, shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. "So, how 'out' do you want to be tonight?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, in what capacity am I here to be your guest? Your friend? A whore? Some arm-candy? Your scandalously young lover?"

He told himself that it was the boy's job to flirt, but that didn't stop his stomach from flipping at that last bit. "I think 'friend' will be sufficient. Your profession is hardly their business, and though they would indeed be impressed should I show up with such a young thing on my arm, I have made a habit of not lying to these friends."

Harry just grinned again, shoving his hands in his pockets and tossing his head back to displace the fringe in his eyes. "Anyone who saw you sucking on my neck a minute ago wouldn't have said it was such a lie."

Severus conjured his best glare, but all it produced was a chuckle from behind that damnable grin. "Please attempt to be civilized, Harry; and remember, these people are all Muggles and know nothing of wizards, which includes you, me, or my condition. Oh, and avoid conversing with the violist, he's a terrible bore and more than exceptionally nosy."

Harry nodded, and then cocked his head. "How do I know which one is the violist?"

Severus rolled his eyes and reached for the brass doorknocker. A few moments later, an elderly man in a suit admitted them and insisted on showing them to the correct room, even though Severus assured him that he knew the way. Harry followed dutifully behind them, taking in the artwork lining the narrow hallway, and soaking up the antique eccentricity of the building. "This used to be someone's home a few centuries ago, but when the owner died without any heirs, an artist's colony got hold of it and turned it into a recital hall of sorts. There are places for galleries as well, but it mostly caters to local musicians and other layabouts."

"I thought you said these people were your friends?" Harry almost ran into his back as Severus came to a dead halt in front of a door and turned to give Harry a look.

"…And?"

"People don't usually insult their friends."

Severus scoffed and opened the door, waving off the annoying usher. The room looked as though it might have once been a luxurious master bedroom – floor-to-ceiling windows and simple mirrors that reflected the light and tiny rainbows coming from the modest chandelier. There was a dais raised about a foot off the ground near all the windows and about thirty chairs, all different, were arranged in messy rows across the hardwood floor. A few dozen people milled about the room, chatting in low tones, smiles and laughter abundant in all groups. Severus immediately and visibly relaxed; here he didn't have to keep up his constant guard, and with a reliable blood source, he was finally getting to be comfortable around the living, especially those to whom he had some attachment. A man was approaching, a wide smile on his face, and something akin to a smile tugged at the corners of Severus's mouth.

"Severus! So glad you could make it; I was beginning to think you'd given up on us."

Severus shook the proffered hand, "No, Michael, but it has been awhile. How is everyone?"

Michael shrugged. "Fair I suppose; still considering ourselves lucky to be paying the rent. Laura's engaged to that American author she's been going on about for years. He'll be here tonight I think. Aside from that nothing much has changed." He clasped Severus on the arm and ran his gaze up and down his body. "You look good, Severus. Last time we saw you, you looked like you were wearing yourself ragged."

"Yes, well –" Severus paused at a slight nudge in his back, and Michael raised an eyebrow at him. "Ah, my manners are deplorable," Severus said as he grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him into the conversation, "Michael, this is Harry. Harry – Michael. He's one of the violinists."

Michael looked stunned for a moment, but Harry's brilliant smile and outstretched hand were too contagious. "Pleased to meet you, Michael. I've never been to a concert like this before, but I'm looking forward to it."

Michael chuckled, "Please, Harry, this isn't a concert by any means, just some old friends who can't let go of their past, but I do hope you enjoy it. Make sure he has a good time, will you, Harry? Severus always tends to get a little maudlin at these affairs – I think the last piece, especially, will shake him up." He spared a little laugh and glanced back and forth between Harry and Severus with a smug, all-knowing smile. "Well, gents," he said, glancing at his watch, "I need to go get set-up. See you after, yeah?" Severus nodded, leading Harry away to another of his friends and introducing them.

Soon enough, everyone took a chair and watched as the musicians warmed up. Severus pointed out each musician and what they were playing and listed each piece they would be performing, as though Harry would understand what he was saying. He explained Michael's comment about the final piece – it had been the first Severus had played with the small group when they had first started out. Harry looked stunned.

"Why didn't you tell me you played?"

"I thought you assumed so; how else would I have gotten involved in all this? Besides, I haven't played like this in years, well before your fourth year at least. I'd wager I couldn't coax a melody out of that old thing now if my life depended on it."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Severus shushing him as his friends began their performance.

All too soon, the musicians were bowing to enthusiastic applause and everyone was settling in for a nice party. Harry had been dragged away by Laura when he complimented her on her engagement ring, so now Severus was left leaning on the back wall, convincing himself he was people-watching, even if it did tend to center on one person. He saw Michael approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned to greet him.

"Excellent performance – that Debussy was rather nicely done."

The violinist acknowledged his compliment with a small smile and a bow, turning his attention to where Severus had been staring before his arrival. "So, Severus…you going to tell us any more about this boy of yours?" Michael asked as he stepped in next to Severus on the wall.

"Harry's just a friend, Michael."

"Oh right, I forgot; those looks he keeps giving you are quite friendly."

Severus shot a glance over to Harry, who indeed was giving him an odd look coupled with a smile when he saw Severus looking back at him.

"He fancies you, Severus, and he's fit as hell – seems like he puts up with you pretty well too." A small touch on his arm. "How long have I known you? Thirty-five years? You laughed tonight, the second time I've ever heard." Severus's face remained stone-cold and apathetic, so Michael shrugged. "Fuck this up if you want, but make sure to let Billy know if you do – he's had his eye on your 'friend' all night."

As if snapping out of a trance, Severus's head quickly snapped around to where Harry was standing, finding the violist sidling up next to him, slick as oil, trying to catch Harry's attention. With a glare that would have melted a lesser man, Severus turned back to a grinning Michael. "If you'll excuse me."

"By all means, old friend," he started to say, but Severus had already strode halfway across the room and was at Harry's side within heartbeats. The young man turned to him when Severus's hand came to rest on his lower back.

"I think it's time we left, Harry," he said, taking great pains to keep the bubbling wrath out of his voice.

"Oho, Severus! You must introduce me properly to your friend." The disgusting little man was apparently unashamed to leer at Harry as if he was a piece of meat in a butcher's window, and Severus was just as unashamed to scowl at him in blatant revulsion.

"I think not, William; we really must go."

"Now, now, old chap – the boy's old enough to make up his own mind, I should think."

Harry didn't even spare a glance toward the other man, choosing instead to take a baby step backward and press his back up against Severus's front, tilting his head up and to the side, nearly catching Severus's eyes. "Yes, please take me home, Severus; I'm…hungry." This last was said in such a breathy, needy tone that neither man gaping in astonishment was under the impression that Harry was hungry for food. They didn't stop gaping at him until Harry closed his eyes and shifted against Severus again so that the hand that had been at his back now rested on his hip. Severus didn't know what Harry was playing at, but whatever it was, it was unnerving the other man (and doing wonders for his own libido), so he played along, sliding his hand around Harry's waist and clutching him close with his arm.

"Goodnight, William."

Severus nodded to a few others, sparing only these small gestures before dragging Harry out into the hallway. He half-expected the boy to jump him right there, but Harry just sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Hope you don't mind, Severus – I had to get away from that bloke. He actually touched me; can you believe that?...Severus?"

A reddish haze was forming in his mind, fangs itching maddeningly under his gums, and an ache more powerful than any he'd ever felt – but this one signalled that he didn't want sustenance, he wanted to kill.
"Snape? Severus?" He vaguely felt a hand on his shoulder and it seemed to calm his murderous feeling down to a tolerable level. After a single glare at his young companion, Severus took off striding down the hall, leaving Harry jogging after him.

He waited outside the building while Harry caught up, and unbuttoned the middle few buttons on his shirt to get the potion inside – made with his Sire's blood and a mild calming drought, he had formulated it to curb any vicious blood-lust he experienced, though the side-effects were still unidentified. He downed the potion and was placing the vial back in his inner-vest pocket when the door burst open behind him and a panting, flustered Harry stumbled out.

"Snape! What the hell's the matter with you?!" Severus slid the last of his buttons through its hole and took a moment to admire the young man's appearance – still so curiously innocent, though he was far from that.

"We'd best save this conversation for a more private location. To your rooms?"

Harry hesitated briefly, perhaps willing to have it out right there in the street, but he eventually conceded to sense and nodded. Once they were safely ensconced in an alley, he pressed himself against Severus's chest again, still hot and only just calming his breathing from the run down the hallway. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry, and if he thought the urge to lick, suck, sink his teeth in that tender neck was bad on their arrival journey, it was almost painful this time. He let his chin rest on the top of the boy's head to avoid the temptation.

Short moments later, they stood in the center of Harry's room at The Darkest Rose, still in each other's arms, both waiting for the other to break the silence. Severus debated using this moment to tell Harry that full embraces were not a necessity in Side-Along Apparition, but that might mean the end of holding him as Severus finally admitted he liked to, so he kept silent. Harry's patience finally waned to the breaking point and he extricated himself from Severus's arms with a shudder.

"God, I'm never gonna be used to Apparating." He looked back to the older man with an apologetic shrug.. "So, what was that storming off all about? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I did apologize."

"Your little display had nothing to do with it – in fact I found it quite amusing. I'm afraid my vampirism has imprinted on you as my blood source, and it causes a reaction when someone else covets you. It was unexpected, but I had to get out of his presence before I did something profoundly idiotic."

Harry's grin was back in full force and Severus knew that all he had heard out of that little speech was 'You're mine. I was jealous. I'd kill for you.' "It was just a different form of bloodlust – I'll have it under control should we ever go out again."

Harry nodded and walked over to the low coffee table to set up the tea service. When Severus raised an eyebrow at him, he just shrugged and said, "Well, we have all night, and I just woke up eight hours ago; there's no way I can sleep yet." Severus figured he'd already succumbed to his fair share of temptation for the night, so staying up with Harry a few more hours shouldn't hurt. It turned out the young man was fairly intrigued by Severus's musical background, so he told Harry more about the piece they'd heard that night and some of the others he'd played in the past. Harry had never been exposed to the more art-sophisticate culture before, and he took in everything Severus said with an excited expression that he'd never worn in his Potions classes. Finally, it was past midnight and the tea was long gone and Severus rose to leave.

"Are you sure you have to leave?"

"I have a set of potions that have to be started by tomorrow noon, and I need more sleep than usual this late in the week."

Harry grabbed his wrist, and he turned back. "Wait. I can let you feed from me tonight, if you're tired."

"I don't think that's –"

"Please," Harry cajoled, "I don't have to work the rest of the night, I might as well."

Well, he did have a point; plus, ever since he'd taken the potion outside the recital hall, his hunger had been growing – he had just been determined to last the week. "If you don't mind; it would be pleasant not to be falling asleep at my cauldron tomorrow."

Harry smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt, a little too slowly to be just undressing. Severus swallowed thickly when Harry dropped his shirt to the floor and stood with the backs of his knees against the bed, hands clasped behind his back.

"Not laying down tonight?"

He shook his head. "No, you can hold me up – I want to stand." 'I want you to hold me' was what he meant and what he should have said, but Severus understood him anyway.

He brought his hands up to cover Harry's shoulder and murmured, "Ready?" into his hair. He felt the boy's head nod towards him and he pressed an imperceptible kiss to the top of Harry's head before tilting his own and leaning down. Once he sensed the racing pulse of Harry's blood under his skin, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, mind so hypnotized by Harry's heartbeat that he didn't feel the boy shift against him. Severus's lips met flesh, and it was Harry's lips not his neck, and oh that was what he needed. Severus opened his eyes and stared directly into the green ones across from his with a wholly unconvincing glare. He felt Harry's lips move under his own, complimenting the smile in his eyes, and a second later, those eyes slid shut and Harry slid his palms up Severus's chest, wrapping his arms around his neck.

They deepened the kiss at the same time, Severus for once leaving restraint behind and coaxing Harry's mouth open with his tongue while Harry pressed closer and laced his fingers through the dark hair at the base of Severus's neck. The hands on Harry's shoulders moved down his sides to encircle his waist and wrap around his back, effectively pinning him to Severus's chest. Regardless of his profession, Harry had obviously not had that much experience with kissing, but he was a fast learner, and Severus made for a very willing teacher. They licked and sucked, Harry finally getting a chance to taste Severus and seeming unable to get enough. Severus was already familiar with Harry's taste, but the mouth was so much different from the blood – less heady, milder, but still Harry, and so still exhilarating. He faltered a little when Harry shifted in his arms, but he didn't start panicking until he realized Harry was moving back towards the bed.

Suddenly, it was all too real – Harry was too warm in his arms, his lips were too soft and his heart was pounding too loudly, and Harry had just whispered 'Severus' into his ear and he knew the proffered flesh of Harry's neck now at his lips was not an invitation to feed, but he took it anyway, needing a way to end this before they ruined what they had already made. Harry let out a little cry when Severus's fangs pierced his skin, but he made no move away, just held on tighter and arched his neck further to the right.

"Don't you…dare…leave Galleons…on my dresser tonight," Harry managed to gasp while Severus lost himself in the intoxication provided by Harry's blood. He sucked at the wounds, wanting more and faster, and it was only a minute until he felt the arms around his neck fall to his sides.

It was a strange sensation, feeling another's body go limp in his arms, but he held all of Harry's weight to his chest as he closed the neck wounds and licked his lips clean. He laid Harry's body out on the bed, removing his shoes and socks, and tucked him under the covers. He stopped at the dresser, intending to leave extra as he had always done before, but he remembered Harry's words and tucked his money back in his cloak, vanishing through the door without so much as a noise.


****************************************************


About a week after their outing, and the…incident, Severus realized what a huge mistake it had been to give into the temptation of extra blood; now that his body had accepted more than just the necessary amount of Harry's blood, it wanted more, constantly. Just three days after his normal feeding night, he began to feel the symptoms of blood-starvation, and trying to push it to the back of his mind had only made it worse. Now he was reduced to lying in his parlour, barely able to move, taking small sips from the brandy glass in his lap, wondering if it really was possible to waste away or if all those love poets had just been melodramatic. He glanced at his clock and then at his fireplace and took another shaky sip of his brandy. Any second now…

No less than a minute later, someone appeared with a rush of green flames, not falling arse-over-teakettle as he once would have, only stumbling slightly before brushing the soot off his trousers. Severus nodded a greeting, but Harry only glared back at him.

"I can't believe you let yourself get this bad off. You haven't moved from there all day, have you?"

Strangely, Severus found he didn't even have strength enough to lie, so he shook his head and Harry's action echoed it.

"If you awaken before I do, there are some dozens of Galleons in my desk drawer; consider them yours."

"You don't have to pay me tonight, Severus; I'd like to think we were friends after all this time, and I'd do it for free if you asked me to." Harry tossed his shirt over the back of the sofa and approached Severus's large armchair, which was thankfully wide enough to both Severus's body and Harry's knees as he straddled Severus's long thighs and sat in his lap. They had never fed like this before, though Severus knew it was common between most vampires and their bonded partners; but then, he and Harry weren't bonded, weren't even lovers, no matter how much he wanted them to be. If he started taking Harry's blood for free, he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to convince himself that all he needed from the boy was a business relationship.

"Nonsense – I'm depriving you of income, and I will compensate you accordingly."

Harry gave him an exasperated look. "I took a night off; if I wasn't here I'd be lying in my bed getting Chocolate Frog smudges on my sheets and reading Racing Brooms Quarterly, and I highly doubt any man in London would pay to see that."

I'd give my brewing hand to see that in my bed every night Severus thought. "Harry, don't be stubborn – you can't afford –"

"Please, don't treat me like a whore tonight, Severus. I'm trying to give you something, so just fucking take it!" Anger flared in Harry's eyes and was only pacified with the touch of Severus's hand on his arm.

"Very well, don't work yourself into a fit." When Harry just sat there, staring at him blankly, he huffed exasperatedly. "Well? I thought you were giving me something."

Harry looked slightly uneasy. "Wait." Severus rolled his eyes, but remained silent. "I just want to know – are we going to pretend like that other night didn't happen?"

Severus shook his head. "Not unless that's what you want." The boy had seemed content enough to ignore the incident at Severus's last feeding, but then again, it had been a quick one – Severus saying he had somewhere to be and finding the biggest vein he could to hasten Harry's unconsciousness.

"You left me."

"I'm sorry."

Harry's eyebrows came together in a frown. "Will you promise not to do it again?"

"Again?"

"Yes, 'again'. I'm going to take some initiative here and say there will be an 'again', so you better promise not to leave me when it happens. But that can wait; right now you need blood before it's you who'll pass out, not me."

Harry leaned forward and arched his neck to the side, practically forcing a mouthful of flesh into Severus's gaping mouth. The older man recovered in favour of instinct and pressed a kiss to that neck that wasn't even an almost-kiss this time. He wanted to go slowly, but found he couldn't, and it was only a few seconds after his lips touched Harry's skin that his fangs sank in and a whimper sounded from above him. He drank greedily, and it tasted just as wonderful as it had the other night, but something was missing – his hunger wasn't being sated, it was only growing, and with every mouthful of blood he swallowed it grew worse and worse. He licked the wounds of Harry's neck closed and nuzzled his way back up that neck, over jawline and cheek, and finally pulled away to look into those intense green eyes, full of concern for him and confusion over why he had stopped. Severus looked into those eyes and felt the comforting weight of Harry in his lap, and he knew – there was bloodlust, and there was just plain lust, and then there was this and Harry.

Maybe he didn't need his blood after all – maybe he just needed…

"Harry," he whispered, and then there were lips on his and his hunger faded, and perhaps it wasn't bloodlust that had kept him coming back week after week – perhaps it was just love.