dead passion

Part Two

“Bring the first course please Inky. And some wine. Mr. Potter what would you like to drink?” Asked Snape cordially, sending the question at the boy who was looking curiously at the silver ware.

“Potter!” he said, when the boy did not reply.

“Huh, yes?” replied the saviour stupidly.

“Kindly take your attention off my cutlery and tell the house elf what you’d like with dinner.”

“What are you having?” Harry asked still fiddling with the silverware , it was shiny and thus attracting the boy’s wandering attention.

“Red wine,” Snape ground out clearly annoyed that a simple question was taking so long to answer.

“I’ll have the same then.”
“Very well, Inky if you could,” the house else popped out before coming back in seconds with some trays. It snapped its fingers and the trays placed themselves in front of both Severus and Harry. They were two courses into dinner when Harry got bored with the silence.

“So… Severus, what’s up?”
“What is up?” the man asked in confusion before looking at the ceiling. “The ceiling, as it has always been, Mr. Potter. Why do you ask such idiotic questions?” instead of answering Harry ignored the question and started to talk.

“You know, you can’t keep calling me Mr. Potter. It’d be very obvious as to who I am, clever disguise or not. And although Harry is a common enough name I’d rather stay clear of anything Harry Potter.

You could call me James, my middle name,” his suggestion was met with a growl. “Or I guess not. That’s also pretty obvious. It also probably brings up some old memories, better left untended.” Harry rambled on, ignoring the warning look Snape was giving him. “Evan’s is out for the same reason and James and Black. Sirius is way to obvious.” He mussed loudly

Severus was trying fruitlessly, in the meantime, to get Mr. Potter’s attention. After finally yelling out his name the boy fell silent. But it was short lived.

“Do you know my mothers middle name Severus? I know you two were friends. But well would you know? I mean really how sad is it that I don’t even know my own mothers name.”
Harry continued babbling. Whilst ultimately, Snape had enough. To be truthful he’d had enough a long time ago, mate or not, the Potter boy was annoying him.

“Potter!” the boy again fell silent. “Kindly cease talking about what you’d like your name to be. As for what we shall be calling you. We can discuss that later on. Now stay silent so I may finish my meal in peace.”

“And if I don’t want to stay silent,” pouted Harry.
“Then I shall hex you and be done with it.”

“Think I can’t stop a simple hex, wow you do think lowly of me.”

“Lowly is not a proper word and who said anything about it being a simple hex. Mr. Potter I am a competent dark art’s master. What makes you think I wouldn’t send something larger and more harmful then a hex?”

“You wouldn’t send a harmful hex at me, because I am so pretty,” he batted his long lashes. “And lowly is so a word.”
If only he knew how tempting that really was, thought Snape.

“You wish, Mr. Potter, on both accounts.”

“Very well if you don’t believe me I will summon a dictionary.”

“That will not be necessary,” said Snape just as Harry raised his hand and said, “Accio Dictionary.”

The large tome came zooming into the room moments later. Harry opened the book and started to leaf through it.

“Really Mr. Potter there is no need for this,” said the Potions Master, waving his hand in the direction of the book. Harry only shook his head and continued looking. Snape went back to eating.

A while later, Harry had gotten distracted by some odd looking words, before realizing that he had summoned a Latin dictionary. He finally found what he was looking for though when he called an English one to him.

“Aha!”

Snape looked up to see his make thrusting the dictionary in front of his nose, pointing at a word.

“Lowly:
Having or suited for a low rank or position.

Humble or meek in manner.

Plain or prosaic in nature.”

“Very well, lowly is a word,” Severus snapped, not all that happy to be proven wrong.


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The last course arrived and the two sat in silence, eating pudding. As desert was cleared away Snape rose and looked at Harry.

“Here you are free to do as you wish without breaking any of my possessions. If you need something call a house elf. The library is three doors down from your room on the left. But under no circumstances are you to come into my lab, is that clear?”
“Crystal,” replied Harry. “Question,” said Harry before Snape could leave the room. “Can I have friends over or something? Am I allowed to leave?”

“No to both of those questions,” said Snape without explanation. He left the room muttering about no more Gryffindor´s in his house.

Harry stuck out his tongue at the man before he could leave.

“I suggest putting that away, Mr. Potter, unless you plan on using it.” cracked Snape without turning around.
Harry gapped at him.

Had Snape just said something vaguely sex oriented around him -- to him?

He licked his dry lips, thinking that things had suddenly gotten much more interesting.
It was around two in the morning when Snape finally left the sanctuary of his room to get a drink and a quick snack from the kitchens. He could have asked the house-elves to get something, but Severus enjoyed the peaceful walk down the halls in the dark of night.

He strutted through the hall, his bare feet scrapping against the cold tile floor. He wasn’t wearing his long formal robes, but drawstring black pants and a tight muscle shirt. It left room to move when he was working on his potions. He’d gotten the bowl and the cereal out before he heard a noise. Whipping around he said “lumos,” looking farther into the dark, a curse on his tongue for the intruder.

The trespasser was a white haired boy with startling emerald green eyes, slumped against the kitchen wall. There were empty bottles littered around the boy, his beautiful eyes unfocused telling Severus where the liquid, from the bottles, had gone. Severus wondered why he hadn’t heard or smelt Harry before. Now that he was aware of it, the saviour smelt quite strongly of fire whiskey and vodka. Snape wasn’t aware that he’d had vodka in the house. While looking at the bottles, he thought it safe to say he no longer had any. Looking at all the bottles the potion master wondered if Potter was conscious at all.

A voice startled Snape, causing him to almost fire a hex at the boy.
“Drink?” Asked the boy, surprising Severus greatly, as he realized that Harry was conscious and sort of lucid enough to notice another’s presence.

“Mr. Potter what are you doing?” Snape queried coldly, painfully aware of how easy it would be to take advantage of his mate in his current state.
“Drinking?” said the boy, making it more a question in his sl
urred voice.
“So it would seem,” sneered Snape. Again the boy held up the nearly empty bottle.
“Drink?”

“Why not?” said Snape aloud as he sat down beside Harry, practically shoulder to shoulder. He took the bottle from the boy.

“Bottoms up,” he said, downing the rest of it, which truthfully wasn’t a lot, only about an eight of a litre. Severus turned to Harry, who had tilted his head back; his eyes were closed and his mouth was agape also. “Why are you down here?” asked Snape in curiosity when he finished the bottle. He picked up another half empty bottle, there were many laying on the floor.

“Dreams… night terrors… visions…” replied Harry uneasily, not wanting to acknowledge that the dreams existed.

“And this lead to drinking all my alcohol?”

“Not all of it is yours, some of it is mine,” Harry said as he looked around, pointing at a tiny bottle. “That’s mine!” he exclaimed.

The potion master only rolled his eyes. They sat in silence several moments longer, each occasionally taking a drink of a vile, substance.

“The dreams, visions, really, are looks inside Voldy-Moldy’s mind and through his eyes. ‘S fucking terrible, ‘cause, he’s really tall and it makes me nauseous.” Harry giggled hysterically. Snape looked at the boy as he regained control. “But no, really, I see the raids and the ‘entertainment’.” Harry made little quotation marks at the word entertainment, splashing the vodka that he still had in his hands.

“”S bloody boring after a while if you ask me. It’s all pillage this, burn that, rape her and kill him. It’s always the same, but what makes it worse than watching it ‘s when I feel this sick sort of amusement. I know it’s not my feelings, it’s his,” Harry gestured at nothing, “but I mean it feels good to shout curses at people and burn their homes. I think I am going dark Sevy, so very, very dark and I don’t like the dark very much. There’s no light! I mean you can’t se e anything.”


Harry kept going on his drunken rant, but Snape really wasn’t listening. When Harry had called him ‘Sevy,’ he had spat out the mouth full of fire whiskey he’d been drinking.
“What did you just say?” Asked Snape, slightly bewildered.

“Umm,” thought Harry trying to remember his words in his drunken star. “Oh, hehehe! Voldemort is French for flight of death, did you know that? I sure as hell didn’t until Hermy looked it up for me. I mean I’d never actually look something up.”

“A book in your hands, not likely. But we’re getting side tracked. It was before that,” snarled Snape.

“I don’t like the dark because there’s no light?” queried Harry doing his best considering the amount of alcohol he’d ingested, which was really quite good.
“NO, No, before that!”
“Voldy-Moldy’s really tall?”

“After that!”
“Look Sevy, you’re going to have to give me something more than no before that but after that ‘k? I am seriously confused now.”

“Not a new sensation I am sure. But you just said it again. What did you call me?” Questioned Severus, getting more pissed.

“Sevy!” replied the boy happily, all but shouting the name.

“Shh-ut up! Someone might hear you!” hissed a paranoid Snape, afraid that if Harry said that nick-name too loud others would start using it.

“Umm… Sevy,” laughed Harry looking around the kitchen, “there isn’t anyone else here.”
“I know that, you stupid boy,” growled the Potions Master, downing another swallow of purple liquid that smelled highly of alcohol, but didn’t look muggle in the least.

They sat in silence, each lost in though, for a while until Harry decided to poke Severus in the arm, just to see what would happen. Snape threw a bottle at him, from a foot away, and missed. Severus was definite in the assumption that he was drunk enough to start asking some personal questions.

“Why do you do it Potter?” asked Snape
“Do what?” hiccupped Harry
“Sleep around, with everyone. I doubt there isn’t a child in school that you haven’t had your way with.”

“Naw,” slurred Potter, “I only do third years and up. Gotta have morals you know.”
“Of course,” laughed Snape, taking a sip of bourbon. “But Potter.”
“Call me Harry,” interrupted Harry.

Even in his drunken state, a thrill of excitement raced through Snape’s system when his mate had given him permission to use his name.

“Harry,” he said, trying the name out, he found that he like the way it rolled off his tongue. “Harry, why do you sleep with all those immature brats?”

“So that it’s not unfamiliar.” At this Snape raised a brow in question. “See my relatives, if you can call those pigs human, pimp me out to make lots of money. On average, in the two months I am there, I make about 12,000 quid. . Not too shabby, well it wouldn’t be if I actually got to keep the bloody money.”

“So, if I have this straight. During the summer you sleep with people for money. Then you go to school for 10 months and sleep with people for free?”

“That about sums it up, yeah -- hey! Do you have any ice cream?”

“Doesn’t that bother you at all” asked the potion master outraged, while pointing at the cupboard with the ice cream.

“It used to, when I was, like, five, but now, well…not so much.” Harry said as he scooped up some ice cream with a conjured spoon; he started eating it like he had never had any before. Exactly how he had managed to conjure anything Snape had no idea, but he did.

“They sold you? W hen you were five? Those...I don’t even have a word for it!” ‘How dare they,‘ Snape silently fumed in his head, ‘that’s my mate!‘

“Yeah well. I tried to get out once, but they caught me. Wasn’t a terribly fun week, that. Didn’t do it again, suffice it to say. Though I guess that’s the point,” mussed Harry aloud, absently rubbing his wrist.

Severus grabbed his wrist, pulling up the sleeve. Two long thick scares ran vertically along the veins.

“Why don’t people see these?”

“Glamour,” he said as he pulled his hand out of Snape’s, allowing his own fingers to play over the scar lines.

They were rather new, still shinny and red, which meant it had happened at school. Harry accidentally pushed too hard on one of them, so that a thick line of blood opened up on his arm. He stared at it; the red was vibrant against his pale skin. Harry looked over at his professor to see his reaction would be. But the Potions Master wasn’t looking at his face, his attention was completely held by the thin line of crimson that traveled down his mate’s wrist. Without much thought Severus leaned in and lapped up the blood, the smell and the taste overwhelming his senses. Unable to help himself he bit into the thick skin, sucking the crimson elixir out of his mate. Harry, for his part, didn’t try and stop him, either to stunned to know what to do or to drunk to care. He threw back his head and moaned; the sensation of his blood coursing through him almost too much for his pleasure nerves to handle . When Severus heard Harry moan he almost collapsed, the sound was delicious and he’d made his mate make that sound. He gripped the boy’s wrist harder, needing to hear Harry moan again.

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He pulled back; he didn’t want to kill the boy, not yet. Harry whimpered and, pulled at Severus’ shirt. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back, his breathing irregular, his lips slack and half open. Snape just couldn’t resist the beautiful sight before him, and he leaned in to press his crimson covered lips to Harry’s.

Sweet, poisonous bliss. Over the blood (and the alcohol), Severus could taste Harry, distinctly, and the boy tasted magnificent. If he’d known about this, he would have jumped the boy when he first discovered their connection.

While they kissed, the Potions Master’s hands swept the saviours body. It was just as he’d thought it’d be, smooth, hard and solid. His fingers slipped beneath Harry’s pants, stroking gently on the boys member.

The kiss ended, leaving even the undead breathless. Severus’ hands retreated from Harry’s body as he leaned back against the wall, he waited for Harry’s reaction. At the moment Potter was unable to talk, still gasping for breath, his eyes opened and unfocused. His hands had fallen from Severus’ body when he’d moved away. They now rested gently on his thighs, next to his aching erection.

“How about you revoke that no me in your rooms policy,” suggested Harry huskily, moving his hands, that had been covering Severus’ obvious hard on. Having remembered the lad was drunk and half way there himself, Snape (with some difficulty) pulled away from Harry. The boy looked surprised and made a move to get closer, but the potion master held up a hand to stop him.