Blood, Sex, Love, Magic

A/N: This was my entry to the Summer SSHG_Exchange on Livejournal. My gift was for SwissMarg. I'll post the prompts after the story is fully posted.

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The alley was cold and dark. Even the dull orange glow from the street light did nothing to take the chill out of the air. Snow was starting to fall in light flakes, landing on the dark slate roofs and dusting the cobbled London streets like icing sugar.

Severus Snape was in no mood to take in the Dickensian scene about him. He had his business to conclude and no time to waste doing it. He walked slowly to the darker end of the narrow alley, grateful for the shadows that the surrounding buildings afforded him. The Muggle woman held his hand tightly, and the clip, clip of her heels reverberated and echoed along the street, the only sign they were there at all.

‘You don’t waste any time,’ she murmured lightly, her voice husky. Her perfume hung about her, sweet and cloying. Snape turned his head to avoid the stench of it.

‘Indeed,’ he replied softly. The woman shuddered, and Snape curled his lip in wry amusement.

They reached the end of the alley, and Snape turned, backing the woman against the wall and staring deeply into her eyes. The woman gasped as he bent his face to hers, his long, black hair caressing her pale cheek. A ghost of a breath left her as he cast a silent Stupefy, and his mouth drifted past her lips and down to the pulse in her throat.

Her blood was like ambrosia. Warm and sweet, he drank not like a thirsty man, but as one who was starved. He felt the life-force in his veins and the lightness of nourishment as it flooded his body from head to toe. But he was not greedy. And contrary to popular belief, he was not a killer. Not on these occasions, anyway. Perhaps in extreme circumstances…

His lifted his head from the slim, pale flesh and sighed with contentment. Sliding his hand to the puncture wounds, he healed the woman and cast Obliviate before removing the Stunning Spell. Bending his lips to hers, he kissed her deeply. The woman moaned into his mouth and he pulled away, his teeth flashing slightly in the half light as he grinned at her.

‘My thanks,’ he whispered.

In the blink of an eye he was gone, and the woman stumbled from the wall, turning to see where he had disappeared to.

High above, Disillusioned against the snow-filled sky, Snape laughed quietly to himself before flying in the direction of his nearest Apparition point.


***

He arrived at the gates of Hogwarts a little after midnight and walked quickly towards the looming shadow of the castle. The snow had not yet travelled north, and the moon was bright. He cut a striking figured as he walked with his head held high, robes billowing as he strode with vigour and purpose. Life was different now. No more skulking in the dark or pretending to serve one master or another. He was his own man, albeit a discreet one.

From the window of the Astronomy Tower, a witch watched him as the moon highlighted his dark form. The sound of a Jackdaw rent the air, causing the witch to shiver and return to her bed.

Severus Snape paused and watched as Hermione Granger disappeared from his view.

***

Once in the dungeon, Snape discarded his outer coat and hung it smoothly on the wrought-iron coat rack by the door. Slipping his hand inside his pocket, he withdrew a dead mouse and then whistled sharply. The sound of wings was followed by a large, black bird that appeared from an adjoining room. Landing firmly on the top of a ladder-backed wooden chair, the bird cawed quietly before tipping his head to one side and watching Snape eagerly with a bright, black eye. In his beak he held a buff envelope, and Snape took it from him with a frown.

‘Good work, Dante. Your reward, such as it is. You’re getting lazy.’ Snape scratched the Jackdaw on the top of its head before holding the mouse up by its tail. The bird grabbed it in its beak and hopped from his perch onto the floor. A sharp crunch made Snape grimace with distaste, and he walked into the other room to let the bird eat his feast alone.

Ensconced in his leather chair with a glass of dark cognac in his hand, Snape stretched his legs out in front of the blazing fire and sighed contentedly. The majority of students were gone for the Christmas break, with the exception of those hoping to commence their apprenticeships, and the weight of responsibility on Snape’s shoulders was considerably less than it had been two years ago. He was even starting to enjoy his job, which had the benefit of tempering his mood somewhat. The word ‘dunderhead’ rarely passed his lips these days.

Turning his attention to his post, he flipped the envelope over in his free hand and noticed the wax seal for the first time. He gazed for a moment on the familiar embossed image of antlers and a stoppered vial and placed his brandy on the arm of the chair. Sliding his fingers beneath the seal, he opened the letter carefully and removed the thick folded parchment. The neat, angular handwriting made Snape smile slightly, and he leant against the back of the chair to read.


‘My dear boy,

I am remiss for not replying to your letter sooner, but I know you will forgive me.

We have been too long apart, and I have important news that will affect us both. It would not do to impart such information in a missive, so I propose we finally do what we have been promising each other for so many years.

Come and stay, Severus.

I know you have a break from your duties at this time, so I shall expect you at your earliest convenience.

Your Uncle,

Nikolai.’


Severus stared at the note, recognising it for the summons it was. Although he was deeply fond of his uncle, the tone of the note rankled and he had half a mind to ignore it until he saw fit to visit in his own good time. But there was something about it that sent a frisson of unease down his spine, something he hadn’t felt since the demise of Voldemort.

Summoning a quill and parchment, he quickly wrote two brief messages, folding them carefully.

‘Dante,’ Snape called. The bird responded immediately and landed on Snape’s outstretched forearm, taking the two notes from him. ‘Take Dumbledore’s first. The old goat probably knows anyway, but one must keep up appearances.’

Dante made a low grumbling noise in the back of his throat and ruffled his feathers in obvious irritation.

‘I know, my friend. He has the same effect on me,’ Snape chuckled. With a flick of his arm, the bird flew away.

***

The following day found Snape at the home of his forefathers, a large, four-storey house that sat on the corner of a street in the more affluent area of Bucharest. The street was full of similar buildings, but none were quite as imposing as the Aspen family seat. Not that there were many of the Aspens left, and they were not as influential in the area as they once were.

A slight shiver ran up Snape’s spine as he approached the large wooden door. He had been a teenager at the time of his last visit, young and reckless. The truth of his family had been a great shock to him, and he had reacted in the extreme, lowering his personal defences to the point where Voldemort was able to use the chink in his armour to his own advantage. Shortly afterwards, he had willingly taken the Dark Mark, and the rest, as they say, was history. Severus wondered how different his life might have been had he not been as rash.

The door opened as he arrived, and he stepped inside a darkened entrance hall and removed his travelling cloak. Draping it over his arm, he walked down the hallway, lined as it was with portraits of people who bore more than a passing resemblance to Snape, and knocked on the study door.

‘Come in, Severus,’ a voice called softly. Severus smiled and opened the door to the room.

Sitting in a low chair opposite a large desk sat a tall, wiry man with greying hair that was brushed backwards to conceal his baldness. His face was paler even than Snape’s, with hollowed cheeks and dark shadows beneath his eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a navy three piece suit, a matching tie fastened neatly at his throat. His shoes shone, and the precise inverted V of a pristine handkerchief jutted from his top pocket.

Turning his face to Severus slowly, the man revealed a long, aquiline nose and piercing grey eyes, and his thin lips curled into a small smile.

‘Severus,’ he said quietly, as he stood to greet the professor. Severus was visibly shocked, but stepped forward, his arms wide as he gently embraced the older man.

‘Uncle Nikolai,’ he murmured. ‘It has been too long.’ He felt a lump in his throat but fought to keep his emotions in check.

‘It has been twenty years, boy. I know.’ He waved off Severus as he opened his mouth to speak. ‘You have been busy… A hero, no less?’

Severus watched with a pained expression as Nikolai Aspen sat down slowly. He had not considered how much his Uncle would have aged, but as he pondered this, it made total sense. His father’s older brother, Nikolai had taken Severus under his wing and shown him his true heritage. Like many young people, he had always assumed Nikolai would remain a robust, fit man. This man before him was but a shadow of the memory he had of that time.

‘Sit down, Severus. Please,’ Nikolai almost begged, gesturing to the chair beside him.

Severus did as he was asked, as the reality of this situation started to sink in. With sudden clarity of thought, he stared at Nikolai in shock and felt his mouth go dry. He knew now why Nikolai had requested his presence.

‘You are dying,’ he whispered.

Nikolai Aspen turned sad eyes to his nephew and nodded slowly. ‘I am afraid I am,’ he said.