I Give To You

“I’m telling you Draco, there’s definitely something strange about a man spending all his time locked away in a dungeon.”

Harry reinforced his assertion with a curt nod and finished his pint, raising the empty glass at Rosmerta who flashed him a smile and immediately started pouring a replacement.

“Honestly, Potter. He’s always been partial to the gloom down there. Anyone would think you were obsessed the way you go on about him. Staff meetings, dinner in the Hall, constant in-depth analyses on how and where he spends his time. If you ask me, you want a piece of his arse.”

“What?” Harry laughed nervously and caught the levitating drink out of the air, sending its empty predecessor back to the bar. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t tell me you aren’t interested in finding out why we never see him anymore.”

Draco rolled his eyes and sniffed disdainfully, “I have far more pressing matters to attend. I couldn’t care less what Snape does in the privacy of his own quarters, on his own time.”

“But that’s my point! Haven’t you noticed how he only ever comes to staff meetings held in the evening? That he never takes breakfast or lunch in the hall anymore? I can’t remember the last time I saw him at a Quidditch match. It’s like the man is allergic to sunlight or something!”

“You’re so melodramatic, Potter. Haven’t you had enough of sticking your nose into other people’s business? Far be it from me to save you from a fate worse than death, but that’s what will happen if you go playing the boy hero with Snape.”

“Your concern is touching,” Harry smirked.

“Purely a matter of self-preservation, you idiot,” Draco retorted, “As usual, you conveniently forget your actions will impinge on the rest of us. I don’t even want to think about how much worse his temper could get, Merlin knows it’s been foul enough of late as it is.”

“See? That’s what I mean! You’re starting to get it. There’s definitely something going on with him.”

Draco shook his head in disgust. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to patch you up when he uses some dark hex to explode your balls.”

***

Dark hexes, Harry thought to himself as he walked back to Hogwarts, were something he knew an awful lot about. Perhaps he could invite Snape to tea under the pretence of discussing a change in the curriculum, pick the man’s brains on the subject of Dark Arts whilst simultaneously probing for anything that might explain his recent behaviour.

It was true; Snape was very rarely seen anywhere other than his office, classroom, or quarters. His generally unpleasant disposition really had worsened over the last few months, not that Harry could say it had declined in regards to their own brief interactions; Snape was as rude and as scathing towards him as ever. Even Draco had apparently noticed, quite a feat for someone Harry considered to be proudly self-obsessed.

When he finally reached the entrance hall, his beer-soaked brain protested that his feet were moving in the wrong direction; down stone steps instead of ascending moving staircases, and it wasn’t until he was stood outside Snape’s door that he realised he’d unconsciously made his way there. Chuckling at his own stupidity and swaying slightly from the alcohol coursing through his veins, he turned around and began to retrace his steps.

“Professor Potter.”

His name reverberated around the dim corridor, and Harry froze as the familiar tenor of abhorrence seeped into his ears. Turning slowly, he saw an unmistakeable figure partway obscured in the shadows.

“Professor Snape, good evening, I was just on my way to bed.”

“Is that so?”

Harry felt the first tendrils of discomfort coiling in his stomach, although that was hardly an unusual reaction, given the company. He always felt a heady mixture of unease, curiosity, and admiration in this man’s presence.

“Er, yeah.”

“Then why, may I ask, were you loitering outside my quarters?”

Harry watched as the tall, cloaked figure moved further along the corridor towards him, flickering candlelight illuminating him by degrees until his face was aglow; dark, glittering eyes etched into the stark translucent pallor. Shocked at how poorly Snape looked, Harry automatically stepped forward.

“Are you feeling okay? You don’t look so well. Shall I fetch Draco to have a look at you?”

Perhaps that was it, perhaps the man was seriously ill, terminally even. Perhaps he didn’t have the strength or time to waste at staff meetings. Just entertaining the idea made Harry feel strangely sick himself.

“That will not be necessary, I am in perfect health. You have still not answered my question.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, it’s just – never mind. Actually, I was going to ask if you’d consider having tea with me sometime. I’d like to discuss my curriculum with you.”

Snape folded his arms across his chest and sneered down, which, under normal circumstances would have deflated Harry’s confidence immediately. However, under the influence of Hogsmead’s finest ale, he was feeling more than a little brazen.

“Surely you do not expect me to add to my already considerable workload by invigilating yours as well? I had not realised the Saviour of the Wizarding World was unable to perform his teaching duties adequately.”

“I’m a good teacher,” Harry said defensively, “I was only hoping we might discuss certain elements of it, since you’re known for your love of the Dark Arts, but pardon me for thinking you might actually be willing to share your knowledge.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a step backwards before turning on his heel. Bloody Snape. The bastard had been more offensive than ever since the end of the War.Harry wondered why he still stayed at the school when it was evident he hated teaching, pupils, and Harry himself in equal measures.

“Potter,” Snape hissed at the retreating form.

“Snape,” he countered, not bothering to hide his antipathy.

“Assuming it is not past your bedtime, you may speak with me now.”

Harry watched the abrupt sweep of fabric vanish. A shard of light spilled out onto the flagstones as though welcoming him, and Harry found himself strangely drawn to it, once again his entire body moving without his conscious permission.

***

The Hogwarts house-elves were rather good natured in providing tea and biscuits at what Harry supposed must be quite a late hour, by now. He certainly hadn’t left the pub before closing time and the walk back would mean it must be getting on for midnight.

“Well? Which particular discipline in that vast subject you endeavour to teach, is causing such distress that you would seek out my company?”

Harry sipped his tea and eyed the bourbons. Snape hadn’t actually offered him one, though he was quite aware such hospitality was unlikely to be forthcoming.

“Are you having one?”

“Pardon?”

“A biscuit? Do you want the bourbons or the rich tea? Only, I fancy the bourbons, but if you wanted them, then that’s fine.” Harry set his cup down and risked a look around.

“How magnanimous of you,” Snape mocked, “offering me my own provisions.”

“Well they aren’t technically yours, since the kitchen provided them, but I thought it was at least polite to ask before helping myself.”

“Developed a sense of decorum, have we? How interesting. I cannot recall you ever having displayed the slightest modicum of propriety in the past.”

“For God’s sakes, I only offered you a bloody biscuit!” Harry said in exasperation, snatching one up before Snape could protest and shoving it in his mouth.

For a moment, Snape looked like he was about to unleash another angry tirade about Harry’s gross lack of respect for authority figures, but he settled for a scowl and drank his tea.

“You know, you really should ask Draco to give you a check up,” Harry commented through a mouthful of crumbs, “even he thinks you haven’t been yourself lately.”

Snape leant forward slowly, black eyes dancing dangerously, “You have been discussing my personal welfare with Draco Malfoy?”

Harry swallowed the dry mouthful down and gulped some more tea, “Look, this might come as a shock to you, but I actually do care about your wellbeing. You’ve barely shown your face around the school the past few months, and you really are looking quite pale. I mean, more than you usually do.”

Harry wasn’t so sure that last sentence would go down too well. In fact, none of it probably would, but at least no longer being a student meant he didn’t have to bite his tongue for fear of losing points for Gryffindor. Though that wouldn’t prevent him from being tossed out into the hallway on his arse. Something he knew with certainty Snape would not hesitate to do.

“How touching. And where exactly did you and Healer Malfoy confer on this issue? Somewhere cosy and intimate, or somewhere acutely public?”

Missing the point entirely, Harry blurted, “God, no, it’s not like that at all. We’re just-well, we tolerate each other, being the two youngest members of staff by about fifty years. Present company excepted, of course.”

“Judging by the pungency of your breath, I would wager one of the public houses in the village.”

“Yeah,” Harry almost chuckled but caught himself as Snape rose to tower above him, thin lips pulled back in such a twisted grimace of anger that Harry could see a full set of uneven, stained teeth.

“Get out.”

“What? Why?”

“How dare you believe my wellbeing to be an appropriate topic of conversation for such an unsuitable environment? Whether you intend to claim insolence or stupidity as justification, I care not which, since neither are excusable. Now, get out!”

Harry’s jaw set stubbornly as he fumbled his way out of the armchair and walked towards the door.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” he said, fingers tightly clasping the door handle.

Snape snorted in reply and turned away to stalk across the room.

Harry swallowed thickly, remnants of dry biscuit seemingly still lodged in his throat.

“I know what you are. I didn’t, not until I came here tonight, but I had my suspicions. You’re never out in daylight, and no one sees you from one week to the next, not the staff anyway. You don’t eat in the Great Hall unless it’s dark. You’re so ashen you look...dead...and-“

Harry’s breath caught as Snape spun round to glare furiously at him, “And, just then, when you-I saw your teeth. You-you’re a-“

“A what, Potter?” Snape spat.

One moment Snape was at the other end of the room, and in the next he was pinning Harry against the door, unaccountably strong fingers gripping his face, dark menacing eyes mimicking the position of his body as it trapped Harry against the solid oak.

“A vampire. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” Harry refused to show any outward sign of the fear that seized his chest, his heart thumping wildly at the close proximity of his ex Potions Master.

Snape released him with a sneer of disgust and Harry’s feet came back to the earth. He hadn’t even realised he’d been lifted clean off them until his heels hit the stone. Rubbing his jaw where those cruel fingers had been, he felt emboldened.

“Who are you feeding on? There’s been no reports of any attacks around here. How are you managing to survive?”

“An expert on creatures now are we?”

Harry shrugged, far more nonchalantly than he actually felt, “The basics are covered in my class, surely you know that. Everything else I’ve learnt has been through personal study, reading up on the subject matter in case I need to elucidate further.”

Snape did not respond; in fact he showed no sign of having heard Harry at all. He moved back to his armchair and sat down, for all intents and purposes acting as though his colleague ceased to exist.
Sighing, Harry pressed further, “You should be maintaining a healthy diet and getting enough to drink, that much I do know. I'm also quite aware that if you aren’t regularly taking human blood, the substitutes you’re likely to be using can’t possibly be adequate. That’s why you’re so thin and gaunt. Isn’t it?”

Still Snape ignored him, fingers pressed together and steepled under his chin, elbows resting on the chair arm. His face, as ever, was shrouded and unreadable, but Harry could see the slight quiver of his nostrils, as though he were attempting to control himself.

On a whim fuelled by adrenalin, Harry drew his wand and pressed the tip of it to the inside of his wrist.

“If I cut myself, if I bleed, you won’t be able to resist it will you? You’ll have to feed.”

Snape glanced up, eyes widening, his hand outstretching in what seemed like slow motion.

“No, Potter!”

“Will you stop fucking calling me that?” Harry yelled, the last shred of his patience evaporated yet again by the most intolerably difficult of men.

“Harry-“ Snape faltered, pushing himself out of the chair, arms still imploring him to stop, “Not there, if you cut yourself there-it is too dangerous, too unlikely to heal properly.”

Harry’s wand hand shook as Snape approached him, dragging the tip further up his arm until it nestled in the hollow of his elbow.

“What about here? Just fucking well admit I’m right for once, will you? I’ll give you what you need, you can have my blood, Merlin knows you deserve it for saving my life so many times!”

Snape’s fingers, tentative and careful, as if dealing with a dangerous criminal, slid around Harry’s wand and slowly but firmly drew it from his grasp. Harry’s own fingers rested against his skin, where the wand had lain. Snape pocketed it and took a step back.

“Yes, you are correct. But I have no desire to take advantage of your self-sacrificing Gryffindor nature. You owe me nothing.”

“This isn’t about owing you anything, I want to do this. Look-“

Harry leant his head back against the door, tilting it slightly to expose the smooth column of neck. He was suddenly aware of each pulse point in his head, throbbing and transporting precious blood through his system, cleansed by his heart as it worked tirelessly to keep him alive. Perhaps it could save both of them.

“Please, Snape,” Harry watched the internal conflict raging in the other man, “take it, and then take me.”

Snape’s head turned sharply, hooded eyes darting over the expanse of creamy flesh offered to him. Harry wondered if he could hear the blood pounding through his temple, if he could smell it even through the layers of skin and tissue. How much being bitten was likely to hurt if, just once, the man let his guard down and gave in to his needs.

“Please, I want you to.”

“It will hurt.”

Harry nodded solemnly, “I’m sure.”

“There will be marking. It can be healed, but you will feel light-headed whilst your body renews the cells, and you will need to sleep directly afterwards. I have blood-replenishing potions that can further aid your recovery.”

Finally letting out a long breath, Harry moved to the sofa and sat down. Snape moved stiffly to sit beside him.

“I-what I just said, I meant that too.”

Harry lifted Snape’s hand from his lap, shocked at how papery thin the skin was, how white and bloodless it appeared. Wholly prepared for rejection but entirely past caring as all manner of erotic fantasies buzzed through his mind, Harry pressed their entwined hands to his crotch.

The aborted gasp from the older man could hardly be considered a protest, and Harry let out a small moan of approval as the tentative touch became firmer, moving his own hand out of the way so that only Snape’s palm lay flat across his clothed erection.

“Fuck, wanted this for so long,” Harry admitted, to himself for the first time ever, despite the numerous mornings he had woken up with sticky sheets and a fragmented dream of being fucked by his ex Potions professor.

Snape began tracing the outline of his cock through the thin trousers, causing Harry to lengthen with each firm caress, thrilled to hear the small grunts of satisfaction Snape made in response to his own.

Harry canted his hips forward, clothing so very tight that he absolutely had to free his aching cock soon or the pain would become agonizing.

“Need to...please...God, I’m so hard,” Harry begged, twisting his hips from side to side to find some relief, Snape’s bony fingers still ghosting his entire length from base to head.

Producing Harry’s wand, Snape handed it to him.

“Remove your trousers. Mine too.”

Harry’s eyes closed involuntarily, just for the briefest of moments as that voice and the implication of the words washed over him.

“Devestio.”

Harry turned his head to capture a kiss, brutal and unforgiving, as he knew it would be. Snape leant into him, possessing his mouth and Harry recoiled slightly when his tongue ran over something razor sharp, instantly tasting the metallic tang of his own blood.
Snape pulled away from him, breath heavy and panting. “You are bleeding,” he said, voice thick with craving.

“Yeah, I uh, snagged my tongue on those seriously sharp fangs you’ve got there.”

A low, guttural growl assailed Harry’s senses as Snape clamped his hips and pulled him into his lap, Snape’s erection swollen and faintly purple, digging into the soft flesh of his stomach, Harry’s own throbbing cock rubbing alongside it.

“God, fuck me, please, do it now,” Harry moaned, hands running skittishly through greasy black hair, dragging Snape’s head forward until his mouth rested against Harry’s neck. He could feel each sharp puff of air hit his skin, knew that Snape could smell fresh blood mere millimetres below the flimsy surface.

“Are you-“

“No, I’m not a virgin. You won’t hurt me, just use the spell.”
When there was no immediate response, Harry pulled Snape’s head back, instantly noticing how his eyes had dilated, black on black; the overwhelming urge he must have been resisting to sink his teeth into Harry’s neck was screamingly obvious.

Grabbing his wand, Harry performed Lubricus on both of them, his hole slick and loosened and Snape’s cock shiny and glistening as Harry lifted his hips until he could feel it snugly positioned at his entrance.

He lowered himself down carefully, revelling in the stretch and slight burn, spurred on by Snape’s low hisses of encouragement, each inch pressing further and further into his body.

When he was fully seated, Harry leant forward and opened his mouth, more careful this time about where he licked and sucked, deliberately clenching his arse muscles around the solid shaft inside him.

“Move,” Snape growled into his mouth, hands gripping Harry’s waist with enough force that bruising would be inevitable.

Harry braced himself, hands steady on snow white shoulders, bones painfully evident through the thin coating of flesh.

He started slowly, each rise measured, each fall driving that rock hard erection back inside his greedy passage, jerking every time it hit his prostate, snapping his hips forward to impale himself deeper.

Harry’s loud, urgent moans filled the air, Snape’s low, regular grunts complimenting them as they moved together in faultless synchronisation.

Letting go of one hip, Snape seized Harry’s cock, fisting it and twisting it and dragging his thumb repeatedly over the tiny slit, pre-come oozing generously over his fingers.

“I can’t...I’m...do it, for fuck’s sakes, do it now,” Harry gasped, throwing his head back as his balls tightened in readiness. Snape’s arm encircled his waist, pulling him forward and the glide of lips on Harry’s neck, the murmured words of heartfelt thanks that weren’t quite audible, were no match for the pain he felt as Snape sank his teeth into unresisting flesh.

Harry screamed soundlessly at the initial shock, green eyes rolling back in pleasure and pain as Snape began to drink, his cock driven over the edge by over stimulated sensation and Harry was coming hard; each wave of orgasm crashing into the next as thick pearly ropes of come splattered Snape’s stomach, hand still working him furiously to wring every last drop of pleasure.

For endless minutes, he was paralysed by the tremors of his body, focused only on feeling each drop of blood as it left him, such feelings as he had never before experienced, so intense and personal and perfect.

“Don’t stop,” Harry whispered, “Take as much as you need, I can feel it, I can feel you, God it’s wonderful.”

Whether through Harry’s words, or the repeated clenching of Harry’s arse around his cock, Snape thrust one last time and stiffened, groaning against Harry’s neck as he spilt his seed. Harry felt warmth flooding his insides, coating his walls, fluid received for fluid given.

Harry held on tightly until both orgasm and feeding ended concurrently and Snape fell back against the sofa, lips smeared bright red, tainted with the slickness of Harry’s blood. Harry rested his forehead against Snape’s shoulder, already warmer under his touch.

For a long time they lay there, each observing the rise and fall of the other’s chest, until Snape took Harry’s face in his hands.

“How do you feel?”

“Completely fucked,” Harry answered with a weary chuckle, “Good though, just tired.”

Snape gathered him up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom, settling him amongst the soft, clean sheets. Harry snuggled into them, eyes already drooping.

“Sleep now. In the morning I will administer the potions you need, but you will be fine until then.”

“Great,” Harry mumbled into the pillow, “Are you getting in?”

Snape grunted his assent, first retrieving his wand to clean them both up, eliminating blood and semen with accomplished precision.
When Harry felt the bed dip beside him, he turned and pulled the older man towards him.

“I give to you,” Harry said quietly, “My body, my blood, everything, I give to you.”
***