The Blood Curse

^^^^^^^

The incursion team from the Order of the Phoenix had based their raid on cross-checked intelligence. It didn't help. Their spy had apparently been outed. It was the only thing Harry could think of that would have led to the disastrous failure of the plan. Snape had proved himself over the years to the point that Harry no longer doubted the dour man. Not to mention that he wasn't among the Death Eaters currently mocking the failure of the Boy Who Lived.

They had been organized to take out a group of vampires gathering in the West End of London. Although Hagrid had been sent to the giants, fail though he might in that quest, no one had attempted to persuade the vampires. Wizarding culture was too full of prejudice in regards to the magical creatures... No one could legitimately offer equality, understanding. They had nothing to stand against Voldemort's offer of revenge.

Perhaps they should have tried, Harry couldn't help but think.

It was supposed to be a simple raid on a nest of less than fifteen Vampyr. There weren't even supposed to be any Vampyr Arcanum in the group. Something that Harry was pleased to note had at least been true. As DADA Professor, he was well acquainted with the legend and reality of the vampire. He didn't even want to consider trying to handle a Vampyr Arcanum.

Harry looked up and met the glittering red eyes of Lord Voldemort. The man looked pleased, his long time enemy bound and gagged at his feet. A short gesture with the Dark Lord's wand caused the gag to drop away and Harry stretched his mouth, trying to make sensation return.

"The great Harry Potter..." Somehow, even without an S in the sentence, Voldemort made the sound sibilant.

Harry smirked, if he was going to die, it wasn't going to be begging. "Tom," he replied, with a short nod.

Although he would have expected the lack of respect to infuriate the Dark Lord, as it had in the past, Harry was left wondering. For Lord Voldemort simply broke into chuckles and then loud, but distinctly evil, laughter. The laughter was picked up by the Death Eaters and Harry was left feeling as if he hadn't gotten a page from the script.

"This is boring me, Tom. Why don't you just kill me and get it done?"

Lord Voldemort stared with those unblinking eyes at the hero of the wizarding world. "Twenty-two years after failing to kill you the first time, I've decided I no longer want your death. Well, in a fashion..."

His odd sentence caused another spate of laughter among the Death Eaters and put Harry in a distinct unease. His team had been expected back within two hours. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, precisely, but rather hoped Albus would be checking on their progress soon.

Harry checked the bonds on his wrists, as unobtrusively as he could, while waiting for the other shoe to drop. It did, as the head of the group of vampires that he'd been sent to exterminate stepped up next to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort turned to address him after giving a considering look to the vampire. "Would Professor Potter care to share with us his knowledge on the common vampire?"

Harry glared, staying silent.

"Ah, the young man doesn't wish to participate... Crucio!"

Harry writhed on the ground in pain, locking his throat to prevent a scream. He wouldn't give them the pleasure of yelling out. When the pain stopped, he took a few deep, shaky breaths.

"Share with the class, Professor." Voldemort was no longer playing, his voice held the promise of pain should Harry not comply. Considering the type of request, Harry really had no problem with playing along.

"Vampyr Generalis is the vampire of legend. They are created when a blood curse, manifesting as a demon, replaces a Muggle soul in the host body. The body continues, with various limitations and advantages, to exist under its new controller."

Voldemort leaned in slightly towards Harry, leaving the younger man wishing that his enemy would come that much closer so he could attack. The Dark Lord read his intentions in his eyes and stopped his forward movement. "And the Vampyr Arcanum?"

Harry managed to suppress his desire to hurl invectives at his nemesis. "Vampyr, Arcanum variety, occurs when the blood curse is imposed on a wizarding host. The body retains both soul and demon, causing the victim to become insane as the two are incompatible."

Voldemort broke into laughter again, the Death Eaters following. Not as slow on the uptake as his friend Ron could be at times, though not having gotten it as quickly as Hermione would have, Harry paled. As one, the Death Eaters and Voldemort turned and began to walk away. Harry was left locked in a stare with the vampire. It was not a pleasant thing to consider, but it appeared that unless he could slay this vampire, he would shortly become something other than himself.

Harry scooted about on the ground, trying to free himself as he kept a suspicious eye on the creature. It watched him, uncomfortably like prey. Harry had to admit that prey was precisely what he was at the moment. The gaze did not comfort him. Harry certainly wished that Dumbledore's consultants had arrived before this raid. But, there'd been no time. The group had been handling the aftermath of the final closure of a Hellmouth in California. No one could have predicted that they'd need their assistance so dearly, or that Voldemort had such a sense of fatal irony.

As it moved closer to him, he struggled with intent against the bonds at his wrist and feet. Moments later, he was locked in an iron grip against cool flesh. Harry flinched as needle-sharp fangs sank into the flesh of his neck and had a moment to wish with all his might that the vampire might err and kill him, rather succeed as Voldemort surely intended into making him a Vampyr Arcanum.

Black dots swam into Harry's vision with the blood loss. He hoped that when he awoke, he'd have the presence of mind to kill himself before he started to cause problems for the wizarding world.

^^^^^^^

Albus Dumbledore paced in the hospital wing, outside the locked door of the most private room. Madame Pomfrey had watched him for a long time, measuring his health with his anxiety before leaving him alone to his thoughts. Very few knew what, or whom, he'd brought back from that failed mission. The Order had arrived to check on Harry's mission. Albus himself had removed Harry from the premises, under the guise of needing treatment for his injuries, before anyone could determine what those injuries were to the younger professor.

His pacing stopped, as the door to the private room opened and closed, allowing the passage of the only other person besides Dumbledore and Pomfrey to know of the situation. The professor looked tired, his robes lightly splattered with a variety of colors from the potions vials he'd taken into the room with him when Dumbledore had called.

"Will he make it?" The question from Dumbledore finally broke the silence and his potions master stared back at him levelly.

"He may yet. If he wakes before the sunset, then he is more likely to have control. If he wakes after, then we would be better off to kill him."

The headmaster closed his eyes for a moment, "I cannot do that."

"Have you considered that he may?" For once the sarcasm and the cutting cruelty was absent from the voice of the other man. For all that he and Potter had barely come to an uneasy truce, he had no malice in him for the current situation.

Dumbledore had winced slightly at the question, "Then we shall have to convince him not to take drastic action until he understands his options."

"Options?" A dark throated chuckle echoed in the room, "He has no options, Albus. The wizarding world will not forgive their poster child this attack. He will be blamed, even if he manages to wrest control from the curse and avoid being put down like a rabid dog. This is not lycanthropy, which is tolerated in the basest manner." A certain bitterness was present in the words as Snape spoke, an echoing bitterness towards lycanthropes and their type. Those who, despite the accident which created them, found prejudice and still a meager acceptance.

The older man shook his head, "I am well aware that the vampire is not tolerated by wizarding culture." The headmaster sounded as if he would continue, but was interrupted.

"Then you should do the man a favor and allow me to stake him before he wakes to this nightmare!"

Dumbledore looked kindly at his protégé for a moment, "You have never forgiven me for what I asked of you."

Snape blanched, an effect which turned his sallow skin into sickly white, "I know how difficult it can be to hide and I was experienced at deceit prior to my attack. Potter has no experience at hiding his emotions, the curse will rule him."

"So you do not believe that Harry will be able to control his inner demon?"

A shaking of the head tossed ink black hair around a thin face, "I do not hate Potter, I would not wish this existence upon him."

There was a knowing look, and a twinkle deep in the eye, that told Snape the headmaster had something in his plans. There were times when the potions master wondered if Dumbledore was a better choice than Voldemort, but at least the man had a lower body count at the end of the day.

"If he chooses to try, will you share your discoveries with him?"

Snape considered for a long moment, wondering if the older man would even accept a negative response, "Of course. It's not as if I'll ever be able to publish my results. I may as well have someone appreciate my work."

Dumbledore laid a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder, knowing of the bitter reality. Snape had completed extraordinary work in the creation of potions to control the vampiric curse. A potion to control the exaggerated emotional state, a potion to supply the magical essence usually taken in by feeding, a potion to protect against the classic limitations from the bodily changes, a potion to desensitize the senses that had been heightened. The work would have made him publicly marked as a genius, but the public would have asked why he'd done the research in the first place.

Their mutual silence and thoughts were interrupted by a deep screaming from the locked private room. Albus turned slightly, looking to the last of the afternoon sun shining through the hospital wing windows, "It is not yet sunset." The hope in his voice was obvious.

Snape didn't reply, he simply moved to the door. When he opened the door, he entered first, allowing the headmaster the opportunity to follow. He heard the click of the latch behind him and spoke to the huddled young man sitting on the hospital bed, "Potter?"

The scream was replaced by a soul-deep groan as the man raised his head. For now the features remained human, the green eyes staring back at them both, "Do you know what you have done by bringing me back here?"

Dumbledore spoke up, his comforting technique more reliable than his potions master's little used pity. "Harry, everything will be fine."

At that the young man changed. Ridges rose on his face as he flinched from the sensation. Canines, impossibly lengthened by the curse, extended. The human green eyes were replaced instantly by the shining golden eyes of a predator, "How can you say anything will be fine?" The voice shook from emotion as he spoke.

Snape drew the fledging Arcanum's wrath from the headmaster to himself in the only way he knew how. He made a cutting remark with all the scorn and viciousness of which he was capable, "Attempt to control yourself, Potter. Hysterics may be what I expect of you, but Albus deserves better."

Harry moved from the bed with lightening fast reflexes, extended hands reaching for the irritable potions master. His movement was met with a swift backhand. Instinctively, he was expecting to overpower the older man. He was not expecting to have that backhanded blow fling him across the room and into the far wall.

Dumbledore watched with concern as his potions master pulled the younger man from the floor and forced a vial of potion down his throat. He saw as Harry's face melted back to normal in shock at being met with the same ridges and golden eyes from the potions master.

Snape shook the younger professor once, hard, before dropping him to his feet, "Do not attack me again until you have some control over what you are now."

Harry simply leaned against the wall, unable to speak after the sudden twists in his life. He looked to Albus who, despite his concern, showed no shock at the revelation to Harry that his former potions professor, now colleague, was an Arcanum himself. Finally, he could make his voice work, "How long?"

Snape pretended no ignorance of the question, "Seventeen years, Potter. You will learn control, or I will hand you over to the Slayer."

When Snape stalked from the room, Harry turned to Dumbledore, "What did he give me?"

"A potion of his own design. It will help you retain your sense of self until you find a balance."

Harry nodded, not yet trusting himself to move towards the headmaster. Oddly, he voiced the only thought still echoing through his head, that of a bet made early in their education, "Damn... I owe Ron some money now."

The headmaster chuckled slightly as he transfigured a small table into a comfortable chair. "Yes, the ever popular first year bets as to whether Severus is a vampire."

Harry had slumped back onto the bed, not quite right with his place in the world. "We weren't even close. None of us would ever guess the truth."

"That is because the truth on the Vampyr Arcanum has been carefully destroyed over hundreds of years."

The young professor looked up in curiosity. "I teach Defense, why haven't I run across mention of this before now?"

"Because the Ministry has not wished it for a long time. Very few are aware of the history of the subspecies anymore. We are all too familiar with how fear dictates our knowledge."

Harry nodded, their experiences with Voldemort had taught them much. "I did wonder why the general vampire has basic rights, as long as they adhere to certain laws, while the Arcanum has none. I had resolved myself to the idea that it was the insanity."

"For the most part, that is the reason. Lack of control produces fear, combined with the idea that most vampires have chosen to reside outside wizarding culture while an Arcanum may wish to carry on their life as before."

Harry nodded again, unable to control the drooping of his eyelids. Dumbledore noticed and smiled.

"Sleep, Harry. This room is warded to keep you inside for now. You are safe at Hogwarts, as always."

Fighting off the drowsiness for a moment, he had enough time to make a request. "Can you send Snape by?"

Dumbledore nodded once.

"I will ask Severus to come speak with you." The only sound left in the room was the door closing. There were no snores, no breathing, no heartbeat to disturb the absolute peace. For after all, technically the room's only occupant was dead.

^^^^^^^

Squeaking noises and rustlings brought Harry out of his sleep. He flung himself upright in the bed and had rolled off the side and out before realizing his movements. Shock at the feel of his face brought a hand up to confirm that, yes, he had once more lapsed into ridges and fangs.

Concentrating told him that the noises he was hearing were coming from Madame Pomfrey who was moving about in the main part of the hospital wing. Amazed at his senses, he stretched them to see what else he could observe. By laying a hand on the wall, he could feel the minute vibrations of the stone from the moving staircases. By breathing deeply and evenly, he could discern first the scent of Poppy's perfume, then the faint indications of sandalwood that had always clung to the potions master.

Harry straightened and took a calming breath, hoping his face would drop back to normal. Which, thankfully, it did. He climbed back onto his hospital bed, sitting straight and waiting. If he was lucky, Snape would have answers.

However, in that moment, he was not lucky. A searing pain shot through his head, radiating out from his scar. He vaguely noted that the scent of sandalwood moved away as he no longer could detect it. But he recalled that he hadn't had the opportunity to explain what had happened on the mission.

Harry rushed to the door, straightening himself despite the still shooting pain. But it wouldn't open for him. Reaching out a hand to the lock, he tried a touch of wandless magic. "Alohomora." The door still didn't open. It didn't make sense, and that upset him. Wandless magic was difficult, yes. He'd worked so very hard to master the simple spells without a wand. Unlocking, summoning, levitation of small objects. He slammed the flat of his hand into the door, not grasping why it wasn't working. His conscious mind had already forgotten the wards Dumbledore had told him of earlier.

But the panic was rising in him. Snape didn't know that the mission had been a trap. Dumbledore didn't know their spy had been outed. And, once again, an Order member would likely die because of Harry.

The panic overrode the calming potion that still drifted in his system and he screamed from rage and fear. His face morphed again into the heavy ridges of the vampire and he beat on the stones of the door and wall around. Not even the scent of the blood from his hands as he injured them was enough to bring back the calm.

^^^^^^^

In the hospital wing, Poppy startled at the sudden noise from the specially warded room. She'd been uncertain many years before when the Headmaster had permitted Professor Snape to remain despite his attack and change. She was equally uncertain about allowing Professor Potter to stay, even if he was Harry Potter.

But her directives had been clear, and she moved to complete them. A handful of powder into the fire in her office was all it would take to summon backup. "Headmaster's Office."

A moment later her head was speaking to Dumbledore through the flames. She didn't need to even say a thing, as he could hear the noise from the hospital wing and stood.

"Move back, I'll come through the fire."

She withdrew her head and stepped back to give the Headmaster some space. He appeared shortly, slightly disturbed by the level of the noise. Without conversation, they hurried to the room.

At the door, the Headmaster drew his wand and Poppy stepped back. As he dropped the wards on the door, it was wrenched open. She couldn't help the slight gasp of fear that issued forth when Professor Potter was standing there in all the full, vicious rage of a dark creature.

Dumbledore evaluated his champion quickly, having the benefit of dealing with a situation similar. He could not detect the hint of rationality in his youngest professor's eyes and hoped that Harry would forgive him his next action.

"Stupefy!"

The jet of red light sprang forwards from Dumbledore's wand, but bounced harmlessly from a wall as the Professor darted to the side. The vampire growled, displeased at the attack, and stepped forward with focus on the wizard. Dumbledore stepped back slowly, watching as Madame Pomfrey pulled her own wand out of sight of the enraged Arcanum and began to mouth numbers. When she reached 'three,' he spoke again.

"Stupefy!"

This time, the hex came from both wizard and witch, timed together. They caught the professor in the crossfire, causing him to drop to the floor unconscious. Poppy was clearly upset by the scene, and even the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes was gone.

As the Headmaster cast a spell to levitate the now silent form back onto the bed and reset the wards on the door, he spoke to his companion.

"Poppy, do you have any idea what may have caused his outburst?"

Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "None. Professor Snape had arrived to speak with him, but didn't even get to the door before he was called away."

The special inflection on called away alerted Dumbledore to what had occurred. "Then we can only assume that it was somehow connected to Voldemort. I think it best that we do not wake him until Severus has returned."

Poppy nodded, not looking forward to dealing with a vampiric patient without the backup of an older and more experienced, not to mention controlled, Arcanum.

For his part, being unconscious simply gave Harry a front row seat to the anger and madness that was the Dark Lord.

^^^^^^^

Severus Snape had answered the summons of the Dark Lord, apparating from just outside the Hogwarts wards into a section of forest lit with the fading light of dusk. He moved towards the sounds and scents of others, allowing his additional senses to guide him through the brush. As the last of the Death Eaters moved into the circle surrounding Lord Voldemort, they waited.

It didn't take long for the far too cheerful looking inhuman man to start speaking. "My orders were a success today and tonight we shall celebrate."

There was confusion from the group and Snape maintained his façade. He had been told of the attack by another Death Eater before he passed on the information.

"But to tell how much success, we need information." The red eyes of the Dark Lord spotlighted on Severus. "Severus, come forward, tell us of Potter."

Snape stepped forward and kneeled, wondering what to confess about Potter. What could he confess without endangering the impossible brat, the Order, and himself.

"Potter was brought back to the school by Dumbledore, he has not spoken to me further of the child."

Voldemort was laughing and Snape suddenly wasn't completely sure if that was a good thing or not. He held his position, not having been granted the leeway to stand or return to the circle. His isolation felt like danger.

"And how did young Potter know to bring a team there today?"

The question was not directed at him, so Snape remained silent. Apparently, he wasn't intended to answer yet, as Voldemort raised a hand and gestured to his Death Eaters.

"Long have we suffered with a spy amongst our midst. Today was a trap, both for Potter and that spy."

Snape tensed his muscles, ready to act. He had an advantage, Voldemort had never realized his nature. The attack and change had occurred after the Dark Lord's first fall. When he'd returned, it must have simply seemed that Severus had neglected himself over the years. If the Dark Lord had known, then he certainly would have used his servant's nature. While this meant their attacks would be mostly of a sort that wouldn't kill him, he would still have to be wary of fire and other tortures.

"Tell me, Severus." Voldemort had continued to speak while he was thinking. "Tell me why you have betrayed me."

It was unlikely that the potions master, spy, and Arcanum would ever again have an opportunity such as this. Voldemort, however, was impatient with a delay and yanked on the Death Eater hood, causing the mask to fall away. Snape shoved the spurt of rage deep inside, locked away with Occlumency, and refused to give into the urge to change and rip the Dark Lord's throat out.

"Tell me now, or die!"

Snape raised his head, dark black eyes meeting glittering red. His impassive face crept into a smirk as he considered just how much he would enjoy this moment.

"Why should I stay loyal to a mad half-blood?"

There were several almost silent gasps from the circle of Death Eaters at this statement. Voldemort, for his part, looked as if he was quivering with fury. The Dark Lord brought his wand around from his side and pointed it at the potions master's face. As his lips began to move the word of the curse, Snape tensed further readying himself for an escape.

"Crucio!"

But the curse missed, passing through the space which used to occupy the spy and impacting on a Death Eater who had been behind him in the circle. Voldemort lifted the curse quickly, turning his head to watch the spy landing from his impossible leap.

"Kill the traitor!"

As the Death Eaters set off after him, like hounds on the hunt, Snape considered his options. He allowed the overrobes he was wearing to drop from his shoulders and arms. They would simply become entangled on the brush. In trousers and a shorter dueling robe, he had a more free range of movement. He ran, knowing that if he kept the pace he would outstrip his pursuers. After all, they still had the need to breath.

As he ran through the forest, hearing the crashing pursuit behind him, Snape smiled for the first time in almost two decades. It was an odd sense of freedom, knowing he'd been outed.

When he'd left the Death Eaters behind, he apparated. Voldemort, not pleased with the failure of his servants, turned his fury on those who returned empty handed. While the potions master was returning to the security of Hogwarts, the DADA professor was twitching in his unconscious state from the effects of the multiple curses and tortures being passed through his scar.

^^^^^^^

The car rolled along through the Scottish countryside, the passenger long since having become accustomed to the car being on the 'wrong' side of the road.

"Are you sure Dawn's going to be okay?"

"Five minutes, 25 seconds." The response confused the young blonde and her older companion took pity on her. "I was counting how long it would take before you asked again."

There was a slight huff and the woman turned to look out the window. "Thanks, Giles. Aren't you supposed to be proud of me for taking an interest in my little sister?"

A grin out the front window at his companion's commentary was the only response.

"I know, I know, you're right. She'll be fine. She has Xander and Willow and Italy doesn't even have a Hellmouth. But it has Italian men."

Giles chuckled at that new addition to the concerns. "Buffy, Dawn will be fine, stop worrying."

The slayer took a deep breath and tried to let go of her concerns about her sister. "Where are we going that requires us to drive into the middle of nowhere?"

"Actually, we can only drive part way. We will have to hike in the last mile."

"Hike?! Giles, I didn't bring any other shoes!" The concern that she put into her statement made it sound as if the event was truly the end of the world.

"I packed them for you."

"So why do we have to hike in?"

"Because the car won't work within a mile of where we are headed."

"Huh?" Her response was simple and inelegant, but accurate in its portrayal of her confusion.

"Buffy, do you recall how electronic devices would occasionally malfunction due to the presence of the Hellmouth?"

"Sure, it'd get worse when it was opening or active. But, Giles, the cars always worked."

"Where we're going has a much higher magical signature than a Hellmouth."

The younger woman looked concerned, "I thought this was supposed to be a trip to give us some time alone?"

Giles reached out and took his love's hand, "I swear to you that I did not bring you along as a weapon."

He waited for the tension to leave her grasp before he continued. "An old friend asked for my advice regarding a vampire problem. I didn't want to come alone, as the last time I was here, you were dead."

There was an almost silent, in-drawn breath at the statement and Giles continued while he had the willpower to do so. While driving had not been his first choice for this conversation, but important conversations rarely occurred where you wanted them.

"I also wanted you to meet the friend who kept me alive while you were gone."

"And how many people can say they're bringing their once dead girlfriend somewhere?" Her attempt at lightening the situation fell slightly flat in the still heavy mood of the car. Her curiosity picked up at a problem she noticed.

"So how are you explaining that your dead friend has returned? Am I an identical twin now?"

Giles shook his head, knowing she'd turned in her seat slightly to watch him drive. "No, they all know the truth about the Slayer and are quite honored that you will be visiting."

Her jaw dropped slightly, "Wait a minute, I had to keep this secret from my own mom and you've got a group of friends hidden in Scotland who get to know the truth? They can't be Watchers, you told me the only one who escaped the First was Robsen."

"No, they're not Watchers." Giles hesitated a moment and then continued, "I'm taking you to a wizarding school by the name of Hogwarts. It's the center of magical education in Britain. The headmaster is the one who's asked my help and my friend is a professor on staff."

Buffy considered this a moment, "Good thing you didn't tell Willow, she'd be hacked about not having gone to a witch's school."

Giles sighed heavily, knowing his love would not be pleased about his next statement. "Willow knows where we're going."

The silence in the car weighed heavily, and Giles hurried to explain in order to salve his fledgling relationship with his Slayer. "This is where I took Willow after she went dark. The coven we spoke of was several witches and wizards I went to school with, as well as the Headmaster from the school."

Buffy was still silent, and Giles spared a glance from the road to look in her direction. She seemed to be considering the information, not moping, not angry, not jealous. It amazed him at the maturity she'd achieved before and after her deaths and the amazing woman she was now.

"Okay, so I'm openly Slaygal."

He smiled, watching her come to terms with this new twist on reality. "Yes, but at the same time, you must not slay anything while we're here."

"Huh?"

The statement had overwhelmed her basic understanding of the world and dropped the Slayer once again into confusion. Giles tried his best to condense several hundred years of wizarding law and tradition into something his Slayer would understand.

"Magical creatures have rights in the wizarding world, Buffy. A vampire is expected to follow the laws and as long as they do not attack a wizard or witch, cannot be slain."

"Okay, so if I slay something not attacking, I get arrested?"

"Not precisely."

Buffy didn't like the sound of that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The Slayer is considered by wizards to be a magical creature. You would be placed on trial before the Committee for the Control of Dangerous Beasts."

"Beasts?!" The squeal of outrage echoed in the car for a moment and Giles was forced to swallow and pop his ears.

"I'm sorry, but it's the way their law is written. The refusal to change the classification of the Slayer caused the original schism between the Watchers and the Ministry of Magic. The Council was formed in denial of the Ministry's classifications."

Buffy huffed somewhat silently, but seemed appeased by the idea. "Imagine, the Council got something right."

Giles smiled at her comment. "With the change in the way the Slayer line works now, I was hoping while we are here to petition for a change in status. It would be of great assistance as we reform the Council to have the support of the Ministry."

"I trust you, Giles."

He smiled at his companion. Yes, they finally did trust each other completely after so many years. With their lives they had for a long time, but finally, they were willing to share their emotions.

Buffy spoke up again. "Is it gonna squick anyone that we're together?"

He chuckled. "No, Buffy. You've seen that Europeans have a much greater tolerance for age differences. Well, wizards have even more of one. Albus, the Headmaster I spoke of, happens to be in a very settled relationship with a woman half his age."

"So there's someone in my age bracket at this school?"

"Well, yes, but he's a different subject."

"Lost me again, Giles."

"Buffy, the Headmaster is almost one hundred and fifty years old."

Silence reigned in the vehicle for a long moment. "That's almost ten times my age at my first death."

Giles nodded silently. "You'll find that age is a malleable thing in the wizarding world."

^^^^^^^

Buffy was still gaping at the castle which towered over them when Albus Dumbledore met the two in the entrance hall. "Welcome, Rupert, Miss Summers, I hope you have a pleasant trip."

She closed her mouth and looked at the man. This must be the one that was old, but he looked fairly spry for an old guy. Not to mention he was tingling her Slayer sense in the same manner Willow had during the spell cast on the Scythe. She took that to mean good, not evil, and held out her hand. It was with some shock, and Giles' slight smile, that it was kissed rather than shaken.

"An honor, Miss Summers, to have the Slayer at Hogwarts."

Buffy was slightly dazed and managed to distractedly comment, "A slayer, no longer the for that sentence."

Dumbledore straightened and smiled his good nature upon her. The man was tall, but Buffy had presence as well and did not feel dwarfed. "Ah, yes, the activation Rupert spoke of... But, Miss Summers, you are the Slayer of legend and prophecy, and thus I give you your due title."

He bowed his head slightly towards her and Buffy's eyes widened in confusion. She looked to Giles, who decided to step in and spare her. "I'll explain later, Buffy."

"There's a lot of that, lately," she huffed in displeasure before resuming her scan of the hall that was visible. She was trying to attune her senses to this building. As it was, the sheer magical aura of the place had her Slayer sense in high gear.

"Shall we adjourn to my office?" The Headmaster asked the question kindly and then led them through the halls.

Once they were ensconced in his office, the conversation drifted over generally pleasant subjects of getting reacquainted. Buffy sat silent, trying to hear something that seemed just out of her reach. There was a whisper, maybe of word, maybe of thought, but it simply wasn't clear enough for her to make out. She had zoned out the men's conversation in her attempt to hear it.

"And what of this vampire problem?"

The Headmaster gestured slightly with his wand, "More tea?"

Giles shook his head, "Albus, you've changed the subject every time I've tried to find out what is happening."

"An attack was made on the nest, there was a single survivor."

Giles hissed in a breath, "Have you spoken with them yet?"

"Yes, but not of the attack. There were other... complications."

"Anything I can be of help with?"

Albus shook his head, "I do not yet know."

They both turned to look when Buffy stood from her chair. Her eyes were unfocused, but snapped sharply to the office door. "Something's coming, something strong."

Giles turned in his own seat to face the door and was startled when his Slayer drew a stake from the small of her back. He glanced to the Headmaster, who was consulting a small glass ball on his desk. "One of our professors has just crossed inside the wards. I assure you, Miss Summers, it's nothing to worry about."

Buffy shook her head, slightly, trying to clear the daze created in her head, "Do you have a vampire on staff, because that's what's coming."

Giles was beginning to look confused, but directed a stare pointedly to the stake in Buffy's hand. She dropped her hand from an attack position to hang at her side, but didn't release the stake or put it away.

Dumbledore's twinkling grin froze for a moment, his eyes slightly widened in shock. "Dear me, you are most definitely the Slayer, Miss Summers."

"What do you mean, Albus?" Giles sought explanation from the place most likely to deliver, knowing the focus of his younger charge when her senses were active.

"Myth tells us that the Slayer is capable of hearing defensive wards. However, few have lived long enough for their powers to develop that far."

The young blonde wasn't shaken from her point. "Do you have a vampire on staff or not?"

Albus seemed almost regretful. "Since you can feel his presence, yes. But I do believe he wanted to speak with Rupert about that himself."

Both Giles and Buffy looked confused, but at the knock on the door, the youngest moved closer to her Watcher in a slightly defensive posture.

"Come in, Severus."

Giles' in-drawn breath behind her gave Buffy a moment's pause, but she ignored it in favor of watching the dangerous person entering the room. The Headmaster gave a tingly warm feeling, but still human. This man, vampire really, was like a deep well of water. You didn't know for sure what might be beneath.

Snape stepped into the room and looked from the Headmaster, to his seated friend, and the small blonde standing protectively in front of him. He watched carefully as the blonde's grip tightened on a wooden object, a stake. This was a time just begging for sarcastic humor.

With a glance to the Headmaster, he arched a brow. "Decided to end my teaching contract, Albus?"

Giles was pale, but laid a hand on his slayer's arm. "Sit down, Buffy."

"No. Is he a threat?"

The question was asked to the room and no one answered for a long moment. Snape stood still, an eyebrow arched and a smirk creeping on his face. Finally, Giles answered, "No, Buffy, he's not a threat."

The blonde looked to her watcher and frowned slightly, but sat herself. The stake disappeared back under the jacket, tucked away for the moment. Dumbledore, who'd been watching the occurrence with the odd concentration of someone at a tennis match, spoke up, "I didn't expect you back so soon, Severus."

Snape took a seat, the last free one in the room. "I decided not to remain at the meeting and be politely killed." The dry intonation was sarcastic, much like the man speaking the words.

"No more spying for you, Sev?" Giles had spoken this time and Buffy looked between the men confused. There was subtext and understanding behind this conversation that she didn't share. Of course, she had finally learned when to sit down and be quiet.

"No, Ripper. The mistakes of my past are finally broken," Snape's smirk widened, "and I didn't even have to summon a demon to free myself."

Giles glared what Buffy had termed his 'Ripper look' and Dumbledore quickly interrupted to separate the two before his office became a battleground.

"That was expected, Severus. We shall make the necessary adjustments. For now, it would be unwise of you to leave the castle unless absolutely necessary."

"Ah, yes. House arrest alongside your Golden Boy. What a pleasure." The sarcasm was still there and it was beginning to become obvious that it was Snape's manner of reacting to the stress of the evening.

Dumbledore ignored him with the ease of long practice and turned to his guests. "The complication I referred to earlier, Rupert, is in regards to Harry Potter."

Giles straightened slightly in his seat and simply nodded to Buffy. She'd been giving him that 'you'd better explain all this later' glare for the past few minutes.

"Mr. Potter is the sole survivor of the attack on the vampire nest. Unfortunately, he did not technically survive as he was turned."

Giles nodded, "Will he have the willpower to control the demon?"

Snape snorted, but added no words to the conversation. Dumbledore ignored his potions master and continued without even glancing over. "We believe so, but term begins in little more than a week. When you arrived, I had hoped you would agree to temporarily take over the Defense position until Mr. Potter is able to return to teaching."

Giles looked stunned for a moment. "Teach Defense against the Dark Arts?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Actually, it would be a joint professorship between yourself and Miss Summers."

But Giles was still shocked, "A former Death Eater and a young woman lacking any truly formal education?"

Buffy had started with the "A what?" and then kicked into "Hey!" mode, slapping her watcher lightly across the arm. Lightly because she wanted his attention. If she'd truly hit him, she probably would have bounced him off the portrait hanging behind the seat.

The Headmaster was patient, if nothing else. "Rupert, you have more than redeemed yourself. Your experience as a watcher and in recovering from the Dark Arts would be invaluable. Miss Summers... Well, she does have the advantage of continuous warfare against dark creatures for the last seven years."

Even if her watcher was incapable of grace under the situation, Buffy had run through the points mentally and spoke up. "We'd be honored, thank you."

Giles turned to look at her and then simply nodded. But Buffy wasn't finished. "I don't understand something you said earlier... How can this guy control the demon if he's just a fledgling? Wouldn't he have to go get a soul first?"

Snape snorted again, and this time spoke up. "I can see your little Watcher's Council is still quite as useless on the knowledge front."

Giles turned a chastising look on his friend. "Considering I'm the senior Watcher as the rest were executed by The First, you'll excuse me if I haven't had the opportunity to fully brief my Slayer."

The two wizards looked stunned, the news of the Hellmouth had rather overwhelmed the news of mundane Muggle deaths, even building explosions.

Buffy shrugged, "Okay, brief now, glare later."

The potions master shifted in his chair and began to lecture. "The vampire, Miss Summers, does not feed on blood as commonly believed. It feeds on the magical residue of the victim. This is why most victims don't survive, they simply don't have enough magic to satiate the vampire before the point of death. It is also why the blood of a Slayer is said to be sweet."

A sarcastic smirk, counted by Giles' glare, and the lecture continued. "There are three types of vampire. The general type, which you so efficiently slay, is what happens when a Muggle, someone without magic, is turned. The Arcanum is created when a wizard is turned. They retain their soul, their mind, and acquire the inner demon as an addition. The Animus, with which you are also intimately familiar, is when a common vampire reacquires their soul with magic. Only one is known to exist."

Buffy seemed off center for a moment and then turned to Giles. "Why am I learning this from creepy vampire guy and not seven years ago?"

Giles simply cleaned his glasses. "Council policy."

"Oh. Really not mourning the loss of them." She turned to Snape, "By the way, there were two known Animus, but only one still surviving. The Hellmouth closed because the other sacrificed himself."

The watcher laid a comforting hand on his slayer's shoulder, aware of the still charged emotions surrounding Spike's final death. Snape shrugged before speaking, "Gryffindor mentality abounds, it seems."

Dumbledore interrupted to return the conversation to its path. "Rupert, I've placed yourself and Miss Summers in the ground floor guest suite you prefer. If you'd like to get settled in, I will speak with you both further in the morning in the Great Hall."

Giles nodded and stood, Buffy joining him. "Sev, I think we should speak. Preferably over refreshment."

"Before you and Severus get reacquainted, I have need of him in the hospital wing."

Both the men looked to the Headmaster for explanation, which came shortly after. "When Severus was called, Mr. Potter had a slight episode and had to be stunned because we could not control him."

The speed at which Snape stood from his seat caused Buffy to swing around in an automatic defensive posture. But the vampire was ignoring her in favor of the Headmaster. Who, by the strength of the glare, he was not happy with. "You left him unconscious all this time? Have you no idea of the extent of the Dark Lord's wrath at the moment?" The Professor turned for the exit, his robes twirling in an angry miasma of dark cloth. When the door slammed behind him, the startled figures broke from their temporary freeze.

"Oh dear, it seems he doesn't despise the young man after all."

Giles shook his head at the twinkling amusement of the Headmaster. "Albus, one of these days someone is going to kill you out of sheer frustration."

"You think so?" The Headmaster seemed quite unmoved by the statement, even more amused perhaps.

Giles shook his head and led Buffy from the room. They had rooms to settle in and he had explanations of the wizarding world to give.

^^^^^^^

The potions master stalked through the corridors, his dark glare wasted on the empty halls. However, it was lucky for him that the halls remained empty and would for at least another week. For now there were no students present to notice the flashing gold that was creeping into his onyx eyes.

When he entered the hospital wing, the heavy doors slammed open, causing Madame Pomfrey to jump slightly and drop the bedpans she'd been moving from one cabinet to another. She recovered quickly, leaving them where they'd fallen and approaching the professor. He had often returned from a call to Voldemort in a bad mood and with injuries. She simply assumed this was one of those times.

But the man moved no farther than the warded door to Harry Potter. Pomfrey started to speak, but the professor growled and then dropped the wards with a flick of his wand.

"Your assistance will not be necessary!"

The medi-witch backed up a step and felt the wards being reapplied from the inside. She moved to the fire to make sure the Headmaster knew of what was occurring.

^^^^^^^

Inside the room, Severus stepped quickly to the bedside. The figure of the young DADA professor was still twitching spasmodically. He removed his overrobes laying them on the side chair and moved up to the bedside. For a moment, his eyes calmed. A gentle hand reached out and brushed black hair back from a ridged forehead. His voice was almost unrecognizable for its softness.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Pulling back his hand, he unbuttoned the cuff and then rolled it up to mid-arm. He knew that the main problem with the young professor was his fledgling state. Snape, when he'd first been turned, was able to feed off a magical substitute from the beginning. It had a detrimental effect on him over the space of almost twenty years, but it had kept him from finding victims. Harry, however, had been turned, calmed, stunned, and then subjected to the side effects of multiple curses through his scar. A substitute wouldn't give him the strength to heal his injuries. And none of the standard healing methods would work on his undead flesh.

Not hesitating at his bare wrist, Severus quickly brought his demon to the fore and sliced through the flesh with his own teeth. As the blood began to well, he moved his arm towards Harry. With his other hand, he cast the spell to awaken the other professor.

"Enervate!"

Trapped by the spell cast by the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey, Harry had been aware of little except his raging demon, a deep thirst, and the unending pain coming from his scar. When he awoke, with the vampire side of his consciousness still heavy on his mind, the blood was the first thing of which he became aware. It called to him.

Severus clenched his jaw on a gasp of pain as the fledgling on the bed latched onto his wrist with mouth and both hands and began to pull strongly at the liquid in his veins. It was a distinct combination of pains. But, nonetheless, there was a part of him, the vampire part, that found it incredibly arousing. Forcing those thoughts from his mind, he wrestled with himself for control of his own body. He would not take advantage of a vampiric Harry Potter for his own needs or desires.

Finally, awareness trickled into the fledgling Arcanum's mind. The first, worst, part of his hunger had been fulfilled and he became conscious of the room. First the pale, cool flesh against his mouth. Then the faint scent of sandalwood and the pressing aura of another wizard. When these connected within his thoughts, he eased the iron grip on the wrist and licked the wound to stop the bleeding.

With a hesitant glance, he released his grasp and looked to his supposed victim. Snape raised an eyebrow and resumed his cold mask of indifference. He would not show the impetuous young professor what it did to him when he licked the last traces of the potions master's own blood from his lips.

"Better, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gulped, and took a deep, but unnecessary, breath before answering. "Why did you do that?"

"To save your life, yet again."

"Thank you." It was perhaps the first time that Harry had been able to give his gratitude without first steeling himself to courage. Severus' shock showed for a glancing moment in the widening of his eyes before he turned away.

The elder of the wizards took a small roll of gauze from the drawer in the bedside table. Wrapping his wrist and rebuttoning his sleeve over it gave him time to collect himself. When he felt sufficiently stable, he gave an impatient tap to the air with his wand, calling, "Dobby!"

The house-elf blinked into existence in the room. Few house-elves wished to deal with the irascible potions professor, Dobby being one of the few uncaring of his nature and demeanor. Dobby knew that Harry Potter trusted the man and that was enough of a reason to appear for him.

Before the house-elf could be distracted by the sight of his favorite person supine on the bed, Snape began to give instructions. "Dobby. From my private cupboards, bring me a red bottle from the top shelf, a rack of green vials from the second shelf, and a rack of blue vials from the third. When you've delivered those, go to the Hospital Wing Storeroom and bring me a rack of vials of Calming Potion."

"Yes sir, Professor Snape, Sir."

There was time for a worried glance at Harry before Dobby blinked out on his errand. Light-headed from his donation, Severus sat himself in the side chair. He seemed unaware that he was surely wrinkling the overrobes he'd laid there earlier and was now sitting on.

"How will the potions help?"

"One will block your senses and one will suppress the combustion reaction. You'll need them daily. If you neglect to take them, then the result is on your head and I refuse to listen to any whining about it. The calming potions you may take as needed. I suggest that you take them daily until you are more comfortable with yourself."

Harry sighed from the bed. "How have you managed to do this for so long?"

A blank look was his only answer at first, then simply, "Willpower, Mr. Potter. The potions can be stored for two weeks. I will supply you with the vials, since your own talents at potion-making is so deplorable."

Two racks of vials blinked into existence on the side table, evidence of Dobby's continuing work. They rattled for a moment, before settling.

The calming potion from earlier was wearing off and Harry could feel his anger rising at that remark. "If I'm such a waste, then why bother? Stake me, or toss me into some sunlight. Why do you even care?"

Snape stood, a menacing figure in black, cloaked in his irritation. "I don't expect you to understand, Potter." His exhaustion was evident as he spoke and the look on his face was not near his usual blankness, more an introspection. "You wouldn't understand unless you've ever wanted something so dearly... Something you knew you couldn't have, but worked to preserve just the same, because if you did not, your life would turn to ashes in your mouth."

Dobby reappeared with a red bottle in one hand and placed the other rack of calming potion vials on the table. Snape swirled, plucking a single vial of calming potion before claiming the bottle and stalking from the room.

Harry fell back against the pillows, confused and annoyed. The entire situation made him feel like he was missing something, some clue. It was far too much to think about when he already had a headache from the matter.

^^^^^^^

When Snape returned to his rooms, he found them already occupied, fire lit, and drinks poured at his sitting room table. The figure in one of his two comfortable chairs spoke up almost cheerfully. "You're getting rather predictable with your passwords, Sev."

He growled before dropping the empty vial that had previously contained calming potion on his desk and settling himself across from Giles in the other chair. "Don't you have a resurrected slayer to fawn over?"

Giles just grinned. "She's napping. I thought it best to insist since she wants to patrol the Forest later."

"You will allow that little thing to enter the Forest?"

"That little thing would have kicked your ass, Sev, if I hadn't assured her you weren't a threat."

Severus simply sneered and then snagged his glass of firewhiskey from the table. He opened the bottle he'd brought from the Infirmary and added a heavy layer of red liquid before sipping at the glass. Giles made a face of disgust. "Tell me that's not human."

"It's not human," the sarcasm was heavy and evident in the statement. "It's a potion, not blood. It satisfies the needs of the blood hunger."

Giles nodded, "When were you planning on telling me you weren't human anymore?"

"When do you think, Ripper?"

A sigh, "All right. Never."

"Bloody right."

"You could have trusted me."

"And you could have not run away summoning demons."

"I had to find a way to get rid of the Mark, Sev. Eyghon was more powerful than Him, he replaced the Mark with his own."

"And that was so much better, obviously. Getting your little Muggle friend killed and showing Ethan how to actually accomplish the dark arts."

Another sigh, "It was a mistake, but a lesser one than taking the Mark in the first place."

"You seem awfully sure that I am indeed a spy, with the way you speak."

Giles snickered, his glass of firewhiskey having been emptied and refilled. "So how's your little emotional problem doing?"

"Sod off." Snape's glass had been emptied and then refilled, this time light on the whiskey, heavy on the feeding potion.

"What's the matter, Sev, does he make you hungry?"

"When the brat's drained most of the contents of my veins, yes."

Giles sat up straight, surprised. "You let him feed off you."

"There was no choice."

A knowing glance, then settling back into the chair. "Of course. The master of finding and manipulating choices couldn't make another option."

"Sod off."

"Spike mentioned once that being fed off was rather a turn on. I threatened to stake him for the information share, but that is interesting to know now."

Silence was his only response, "You told me that you wouldn't approach him, Sev, because there were still secrets he didn't know. Any of those left now?"

"I'm not a bloody Gryffindor, you know."

"Of course. You're simply in love with one."

A sneer and a scowl combined shouldn't have been possible, but they were for Snape. "What would I even know about such a thing."

Giles sighed and shook his head. "I'm going to give you one piece of advice my friend, and then let you be. Don't waste anymore time."

He stood, settling the glass back on the table. It was a short visit, but he knew that Severus really wasn't in the mood for companionship at the moment. Walking to the door, he listened to the soft sounds of his friend still drinking from the glass. "Take a chance, Sev, you've punished yourself long enough."

As Giles closed the door behind him, feeling the wards resettle around the rooms, he left the Arcanum staring moodily into the flames as he drank.

^^^^^^^

When Giles returned to the guest suite housing himself and Buffy, he found the Slayer already stretching on the sitting area carpet. She looked up at him with a slightly guilty expression, "Couldn't sleep."

Giles nodded and moved closer, holding out a hand and letting her pull herself upright. As was usually the situation when the slayer instinct was upon her, she was chatty. "As much as I hate to admit it, Faith had a point... There's only a few ways to get rid of a slayer itch."

As Buffy was moving past him towards her weapons and the unnecessary patrols in the Forbidden Forest, he snagged her by the arm. Leaning over slightly to blow a gentle breeze across the back of her neck, neatly revealed by her ponytail, he whispered, "Why don't we explore one of those ways in the bedroom?"

The Slayer turned to him with a grin and immediately switched directions. "No persuasion needed there, Watcher mine."

^^^^^^^

Albus Dumbledore could be considered a morning person. He was rampantly cheerful, especially when watching the sun rise over the castle lake as today. As the light was still breaking over the land, driving back the majority of the deep shadows from the Forbidden Forest, he was able to make out two man-sized dark shapes coming his way.

That the castle wards were not alerting him to anything was a comfort. That he could barely make out the carrying voices made him smile.

"Giles, it's nothing. Cut it out."

"Buffy, the bone is showing."

"Yeah, so?"

The Headmaster shook his head as the two approached quickly across the grounds, the odd argument continuing. When they drew even with him, he felt his face drop in concern at the gash on the Slayer's arm. Giles was indeed correct, bare bone was showing in the deepest portion.

"Oh, my. Miss Summers, we should get you to the Hospital Wing."

Buffy shrugged, wincing only slightly at the movement of her arm. "Did you know you had wizards with bad fashion sense camped out in your woods?"

Albus knew he was staring at the young woman in surprise, but couldn't seem to manage to completely understand her.

Giles, having many years advantage with the Slayer, decided to translate. "Death Eaters, they had a troll."

Buffy huffed her displeasure at this point. "Exactly. Bastard ruined my blouse." She plucked at the shredded dark blue silk with her good arm.

"That can be corrected, Miss Summers, as can your arm if you would follow me."

^^^^^^^

Madame Pomfrey was clear in her expression of shock and dismay at the injury to the newest teacher. Between mutterings about the job being cursed, Buffy watched as her arm was poked, prodded, smeared with smelly stuff, and whole again. Perky once more at the lack of pain, she hopped off the bed on which she had been perched.

Running through a quick set of movements, she determined that full range of use was back before thanking the matron with a quick, "This is great."

After the medi-witch had moved on to other duties, Buffy turned to Giles and the Headmaster. She noted from the corner of her eye that the hospital matron had moved across the ward towards a closed door. The men were boring her with their discussion on documenting slayer physiology for part of Giles' petition. For once, she considered that Giles might actually be pleased she hadn't been paying attention as it meant she saw something more important.

Wand out, the medi-witch had unlocked and unwarded the door. Moments later, she been knocked aside by a fast moving man-sized figure. Flipping backwards off the bed and interrupting the discussion on augmented magical healing, Buffy moved to block the figure from exiting the ward.

It was only logical that if it was locked in, it was meant to stay in.

She found herself facing away from the Hospital Wing doors, faced off against a vampire in full face. Her opponent wasn't much taller than she was, making him a fairly short man and nowhere near as imposing as tall, dark, and creepy from the day before. What was bothering her was the difference in how he felt.

As she stood there, the two of them evaluating each other with silent emotion and the barest of feints, he reminded her of Willow just after Tara had been killed. It felt like deep inside that there was a great deal of good, but something overrode.

When the vampire growled in frustration, Buffy let slayer instinct takeover. She wasn't about to let this thing kill her, even if he was supposed to be important. A quick hand movement had a stake available.

"Buffy, no!"

She barely heard Giles' exclamation as she continued to watch her prey. When he darted forward, she raised the weapon.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell caught her hand, as well as the stake. The carved wood was slammed into the far wall with the strength of the casting, shattering into wooden splinters. Buffy was spun back where she stood, the energy forcing the object from her hand knocking her aside.

But she didn't lose track of her target. Seeing its way clear, the vampire moved towards the doors only to be blocked by the wizard who had hexed her.

Relying on the physical advantages to strength and size, Snape seized Harry with one arm around his middle. The two Arcanum struggled for a moment before it was clear that Snape was not to be swayed. Harry's efforts against the grasp continued, even as he was bodily carried back to the room and thrown inside before Snape had the door closed and warded again.

The angry potions master turned on the Slayer, who was meeting him with a matching glare.

"You cannot slay him, you vapid little twit!"

"I think I could, if you hadn't interfered!"

Forestalling the argument, the only voice of reason Buffy had ever listened to spoke up from behind her. "Buffy, he's right."

The blonde turned, staring at her watcher with shock, "What?"

"If Harry Potter dies, Voldemort wins."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "And exactly how is an out of control fledgling supposed to stop your big bad?"

At her question, the Headmaster sighed deeply. Unnoticed in the fracas, he had moved to assist Madame Pomfrey. The potions master turned to the hospital matron with a raised eyebrow, "Did he drink the potion I sent down?"

Madame Pomfrey shook her head as she was helped, slightly unsteadily, to her feet. "I gave him the dosage, but his system rejected it. I'm not equipped to handle this situation."

Buffy made a moue of disgust at the idea of a barfing vampire and the conversation continued on around her.

The headmaster turned to his former spy. "Severus, can you teach him to control this?"

"How can you ask me that? You know what I recommended."

"And, yet, with a Slayer here, you prevent her from doing so."

Snape rubbed at the crease between his eyebrows, knowing that yelling at the Headmaster was only going to result in his being backed into agreeing to whatever scheme the old coot had in mind.

"What is it you want me to do, Albus?"

"I would like to move Professor Potter into your quarters and have you teach him to control his demon."

The potions master stared at his boss for a long moment, the blank face revealing nothing. He wanted suddenly to break his almost two decades long fast and drain the infuriating old wizard.

"Fine."

It might have been agreement, but there was no acquiescence in the single word.

"I will remove Potter as soon as he has overcome this latest episode."

The Headmaster escorted Madame Pomfrey to her office, as the others were left in their own thoughts.

"Giles, I think you left some stuff out of that explanation."

A snort of either derision or agreement came from the vampire in the room and Giles sent a glare in his direction. The potions master ignored him, moving to stand facing the door. After a moment, Giles laid a hand on Buffy's arm and jerked his head towards the doors. She followed him, not entirely trusting this old friend of his.

Snape stared at the door for a long moment, wondering exactly how he had come to this point in his life. There were facets of his existence that still haunted him. His parents and the way he'd been raised. His alienation at school and desperation for acceptance. The Death Eaters and his deal with the devil.

Even after the fall of the Dark Lord, his anger... at self and circumstance, but mostly self... that had led to reckless disregard. Finally, when his guard was low in an unconscious death wish, his turning.

He considered these points of his life that brought him to this door. Standing there, unwilling to enter and face his failure, he allowed the emotion free to play across his face.

It had been a trap and he'd led the Man Who Lived right into it.

Harry had lived through many of the same life experiences. But, where Snape had been battered and bloodied, the other wizard had emerged with his self, if not always his dignity, intact. As he finally triggered the wards to allow him through, the professor was left to wonder if he could save their world's savior this time.

There was no pressure against the door as it opened. Snape entered, closing and resetting the vital protections. The room was a mess, even with the slightly dull odor that signified the repeated use of Scourgify. Harry was across the room, kneeling with his head leaning on the overturned side table. There was a colorful miasma of spilled and mixed potions below his legs and the faint glitter of glass.

"Potter?"

The fledgling raised his head in acknowledgement of his name. Golden eyes and a ridged brow were not a comforting sight. Neither was the animalistic growl as the vampire rose to its feet.

"Come to gloat, Snape?" The voice was Harry's, but the Potions Master did not believe the mind behind the sentiment was his as well.

"Come to drive me to my death like you did Black?" And in that instant, he was certain Harry was not in control. Forced to work together for the good of the Order, they had settled their dispute over the mutt in Potter's first year of teaching... three years before. Not to mention that Potter never referred to the bastard as anything other than 'Sirius.'

Refusing to address the demon's comments, Snape spoke to draw the other professor's mind to the fore. "I taught you to control your mind, Potter. Force it back."

The vampire only laughed at him, no stalking closed with a slow stride. "This isn't quite the tragedy for you, is it?"

Slow steps brought the figure closer with the sinuous glide of Quidditch toned muscles. "Me... Like this..."

Snape kept his eyes on the face as slightly blunt fingered hands caressed across a thinly clad chest. His gaze didn't even flicker as the now nimble digits began to unbutton the top of the regulation hospital pajamas, revealing tanned skin barely paled by the alteration in physiology.

His own demon, long leashed, urged a surrender to what he wanted. The impulse grew as the younger vampire took that final step, rubbing his bare chest against the cloth of the older wizard's robes. The potions professor closed his eyes, a bare clenching of his jaw the only other sign of his internal fight for control.

He didn't startle or shift, even as the Gryffindor's voice became a purr directly in his ear. "You can refuse me nothing."

In the next instant, a slice of pain and the feel of Harry's lips, teeth, and tongue high on his neck above the collar of his garments. Silently, he tilted his head a bare inch in acquiescence. He told himself that without the burning edge of hunger Potter would be able to force back the demon. He told himself that it was restraint, not thrall, that kept his arms at his side as the younger man clung to him like a lamprey. He knew the only truth was that the rapid draining of his vital fluid was the only thing preventing the inevitable, but inappropriate, reaction to this sensation.

After a long minute that felt like eternity, the younger vampire drew away with a cry. Snape opened his eyes, catching sight of green eyes and normal features before the younger man curled himself into a ball at the Potions Master's feet.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." It was a barely heard mantra from the figure, now rocking slightly.

"Potter?" His voice was a croak, a bare shell of its normal self, and did not command its typical attention.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry..." Repetition of the single word did not seem to bring any peace to the younger man. Snape knelt carefully, the punctures on his own neck knitting closed as he laid a tentative hand on the trembling back.

"Stop this. It wasn't you, Harry." The use of his first name was enough to bring a response, drawing startled emerald eyes to meet his face.

"You used my name." The softly uttered comment didn't need a response. Snape moved his hand in a barely perceptible gesture of comfort. Even that small movement caused a shudder of reaction. Offering a dark purple sleeping draught from the depths of his many pockets, there was some relief in the Potions Master when the younger man took it without protest.

"It wasn't you."

A deprecating laugh from the smaller figure, even as Harry's eyes began to droop from the mixture's effects. "So easy to give into it."

Snape continued the hand movement, trying to offer some meager comfort or peace. "I know, Harry."

Harry sighed, melting boneless to the floor with a last comment. "It would do everything I'm too afraid to consider."

As the elder vampire lifted the now unconscious figure, ignoring the blood still lingering on both of them, Snape wondered exactly what Dumbledore had gotten him into.

^^^^^^^

"So you're telling me I can't slay the crazy fledgling because he has to kill someone first?" Buffy sounded incredulous, even though it had to have been the fifth time she had asked.

"Precisely. He's the only one who can kill the Dark Lord."

Buffy snorted in response. "I've faced how many big bads, Giles? Why don't I just handle this Moldytort guy?"

Giles could only sigh and clean his glasses, not knowing how to properly portray the wizarding world's problem. "He must fulfill the prophecy. I'm not even sure that staking him would kill him."

"Huh?"

"I explained their magic to you, do you remember what I told you about the killing curse?"

"Abra Kadabra, no soul equals dead."

Giles flinched, but continued, "Harry Potter has survived that curse."

"He didn't feel soulless."

"Precisely," Giles stated. "It was part of the prophecy that he survive."

"Watcher-mine, considering how many prophecies I've stopped, what makes this one different?"

"Because you don't really thwart a prophecy, Buffy. You merely change its expression. The Master did kill you, after all."

Buffy shrugged, having no interest in the theory behind divinatory magic. "So, what's this guy's doom?"

"According to Albus, 'either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.'"

"He died, doesn't that mean the bad guy won and I can go kill him now."

"It's not about death, Buffy. Harry Potter survives and must still kill the Dark Lord."

"Huh." Buffy thought for a moment before continuing. "Someone better teach him some hand to hand."

Giles focused on her, "What do you mean?"

"In my experience, these things are either loose or literal. He'd better be prepared to kill the guy with his bare hands, just in case."

Buffy continued to file her nails as she read over her portion of the class syllabus, before lifting her head and meeting the shocked eyes of her lover. "What?"

Giles simply leaned over the chair, dropping a quick kiss on her head. "You're brilliant."

The young woman smiled as the door closed behind her watcher. She shook her head before muttering to herself, "I'm prophecy girl. Been there, done that." Concentrating once more on the class notes, she thought for a moment that these kids couldn't be any worse that a house full of potentials. At least here she only had to share a bathroom with one considerate Englishman. And she'd rather gotten used to having Giles in her personal space.

^^^^^^^

Giles was unable to get a response from the Headmaster's office, remembering belatedly the tradition of last minutes meetings with the Board of Governors. There were few others as heavily involved in the details as Albus Dumbledore, but the watcher knew where to find at least one.

The hall containing the Potions classroom, the professor's office, laboratory, and private quarters was mostly dark. What light there was this deep in the dungeons came not from the hall torches, as one might expect. Instead, it came from the open door of the private lab. Giles recalled his friend's kindness when he'd fled to Hogwarts after Buffy's second death. Many might not have understood, but Giles knew the hours of silent drudgery working with potions had given his mind time to heal.

Standing in the doorway, the watcher could see that the other wizard was hard at work. Three cauldrons were bubbling, differing colors and odors indicating their status in production. He was surprised to note that Snape was drinking from a goblet while working... and made it known.

"What happened to all your lectures about potential contaminants?"

Snape set the goblet down next to a book and stirred the second cauldron, a deep teal, without looking up as he answered. "Potter, as usual, is being difficult and does not respond to the feeding potion."

Giles stepped into the room and closed the door. He realized that his friend must be heavily distracted to have made such a comment without silencing spells or at least a closed barrier. Staying clear of the work area, he leaned over the book. "This justifies your suddenly less than paranoid brewing?"

Snape sighed and stepped away from his cauldrons. "Not now, Ripper."

Taking a more serious aspect, the watched nodded slightly. "Do you need any help?"

"Stir that twelve times clockwise while I finish this."

Giles moved to the pale mauve potion as directed and began to stir. He watched the potions master's throat work as the contents of the glass were drained. Observing with some surprise the rust-colored stains on the side of his white cravat, Giles spoke in his typical circumspect tone. "You've been feeding him again."

Although there was no judgment in the tone, Snape was testy in his reply. "He is unable to digest Alimonium. Shall I leave him to starve? Or hunt?"

"The potion seems sufficient for you."

Snape settled into a chair for a short break, his professorial tones filing the room. "Alimonium is an adaptation of Sanguaria. While the blood loss potion halts such damage and impels the body to higher production, the feeding potion provides the necessary magical signature and other essentials. It is substantive, not a gastronomic delight."

"Is there a problem with it?"

"Other than prolonged use providing its user with an aspect of illness?" Snape waved his own sarcasm away with a hand. "By using first Sanguaria, then Alimonium, from the moment my physiology was altered, I adapted my system to a state of constant near starvation."

"So why wouldn't that have worked on Potter?"

"I had nine years of relative peace for my body to adjust. Potter was exhausted from combat, tortured, changed, then subjected again to the Dark Lord's mercies voyeuristically. It was insufficient. Now, it seems, his demon refuses to settle."

Giles hmmed as he considered the information. "How long did it take you to gain control?"

"Nine months warded inside that decaying excuse of a family manor."

"Nine months?"

"Significantly more efficient than seventy years in a sewer."

The dry humor caused Giles to chuckle and move to the simmering blue-filled cauldron. A calming potion he could tend without instruction. "How long does Potter have?"

"Until the Dark Lord becomes insistent."

There was a cold truth in the statement that neither could deny. For a long time, the only sound was of Giles tending to the potion.

"Sev, there has to be a better solution than you becoming the Gryffindor's pomme de guerre."

"Are you offering yourself? Perhaps your Slayer?" Snape's voice was colder than normal. Giles glared at him over his glasses, making it obvious that he would not be intimidated by his old friend.

"I simply don't like to see you suffering from yet another sacrifice made to protect him."

Snape seemed distracted as he replied, "I can deny him nothing. Not anymore."

The sudden impact of a stirring rod on the table was a sharp noise cracking the subtle peace of the lab. "Perhaps you should try."

"As you do towards your Slayer? Remind me, Ripper, for how long did she dance you like a marionette before you asserted yourself?"

Giles didn't bother to look up from the cauldron this time as he turned off the flame below the calming potion. "Don't be a git. I'm just concerned for you."

Snape wandlessly summoned another bottle of his Alimonium. "I've rather become accustomed to only being polite to Albus, and him just barely."

The watcher grinned at the Snapish apology. "Should this come as a surprise to me?" The potions master snorted in response, head bent over goblet and bottle.

"Where's your little Slayer?"

"Studying the syllabus and trying to avoid the temptation to stake you for calling her a twit."

A silent shrug and no apology, not that Giles had expected one. "Where's your troublemaker?"

"Sleeping off a triple dose of dreamless sleep."

Snape smirked at Giles' shocked expression. "It's not as if I can poison him, so I must amuse myself while I can. Technically, he's already dead."

^^^^^^^

The students filed into the Great Hall for the start of term feast. There were a significantly lower number of them than usual. Attrition from the war, both through death and withdrawals for safety reasons, had thinned the rank at Hogwarts. It was a trend that would likely continue until Voldemort had been stopped.

For this year, only sixteen letters had gone out. Only thirteen first years would be starting. It was likely the smallest class seen since the days of the founders.

As the older students took their seats, most spared a glance of confusion for the couple in Professor Potter's usual place. The rumors started fast and thick. Behind Quidditch, gossip-mongering was the most popular of Hogwarts sports. In these interesting times, it certainly had as many participants.

The sorting came and went with Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff gaining the majority of new students. Slytherin, an unpopular house of which to be a member in the best of times, gained only one first year. The redheaded girl sat, shaking and by herself, at the end of the table closest to the professors. Her isolation was obvious, caused in part by the older students and in part by her own shock.

During the start of term announcements, the whispers about Harry Potter grew even heavier. Dumbledore, introducing Professors Giles and Summers as temporary replacements only, knew he would have to make some statement.

"As we start our term, I will ask all students not to bother Professor Potter if you see him in the halls. He was injured not quite a week ago and is still recovering."

He nodded to himself as he called the food forth and sat down. They were moderately reassured their savior was still around and would share that in their letters home. Harry would occasionally be seen in the halls, even if that had to be courteous of Polyjuice potion.

^^^^^^^

Snape lingered over his meal as long as he could. Unlike his usual silence, he shared some scant comments with Professor Giles. More surprisingly, an occasionally exchange was made with Professor Summers about this or that dark creature. None too few of the other professors simply assumed he was in an, admittedly increasingly rare, good mood. Those who remembered the chaos caused by Snape and Giles in their earlier school years, before Giles' watcher father brought him to be taught at home, attributed it to the presence of a long-time friend.

Inevitably, the students were dismissed to their dormitories and Snape could no longer avoid his houseguest. Stalking through the corridors, he chose instead to create a further delay and address his Head of House duties immediately.

The students were gathered in their common room when he entered. He noted that the long first-year looked as cold, pale, and lost as any homesick child.

"Line up." The snapped command brought the returning students into a half-circle around him. A pointed finger and quick gesture directed the new girl with an equally sharp, "You. In front." He reviewed them, registering for himself which were likely the Dark Lord's sympathizers and which would be more controllable.

Finally, he turned that calculating stare on the redhead. There was no pleasure in noting she still shook slightly. He wondered idly if parents used him as a boggart when such evil creatures as the Dark Lord roamed the land.

"Your name, child?" He tried to make the question softer, but her answer was delivered in a near whisper. It wasn't the first time that distraction during the sorting had caused him to ask later.

"Ginevra Weasley, Professor."

His eyes widened slightly, the only outward expression of his shock. A Weasley? Sorted into Slytherin? He did seem to recall the eldest, Bill, was old enough to have a child this age. It would certainly have been obvious at an Order meeting had Molly been pregnant again in the last decade.

"A lovely name, child. Welcome to Slytherin."

Although he truly didn't need the additional trouble, he would have to watch for the safety of this girl. And she would be needing her Head of House's support when her family learned the result of her sorting.

"I was named after my aunt."

It seemed his small kindness had brought the girl some comfort, enough at least to confirm his suspicions. With a small nod, he turned his head to address the group.

"As Slytherins, you have many an obstacle to overcome. Endeavor not to place additional troubles in the paths of yourself, or your housemates. I am not a lax disciplinarian and will tolerate no idiocy among my house."

There was a pointed stare, met by only cold looks from those students who would now know of his betrayal of the Dark Lord. His eyes narrowed slightly in their direction. "If you bring trouble to Slytherin's house, I can and will make your year a living hell."

He caught, from the corner of his eye, the newest Slytherin nodding slightly. A Gryffindor family tradition culminating in a Slytherin. Perhaps he should have been warning the returning students away from her instead? With an evil smirk at his own thoughts, he swept from the room.

The common room behind him and without homework to hide behind in his office, Snape turned towards his private quarters. Upon entering, he noted that the common area was neat and undisturbed, if slightly stale smelling. The door to his rooms was closed tight, as he expected. The door to the guest rooms, a space that had not even existed a week prior, was shut as well. Noticing that the lavatory door was wide open, and the room behind clearly unoccupied, he assumed that Potter was already enjoying yet another drugged sleep.

A few steps across the room brought him to the small desk on which he had left the younger man's 'dinner.' He found there, in response to his generosity, a note, an empty and clean pair of goblets, and a half empty bottle of Alimonium. Inwardly acknowledging his curiosity, he seated himself and unfolded the parchment.

He saw first that there was no salutation, and the note was barely a few lines in length. He wondered idly if Potter occasionally had the same difficulties Snape experienced in addressing the other. Neither was comfortable with first names in daily use and Professor was often too formal for equals. Over the years of their joint employment, Snape had kept to his habit of addressing the youngest professor as he had when he was in school.

'I cleaned up after myself, but let me know if anything is out of place. My stomach is still unable to tolerate the potion. Thank you again for considering my needs.'

Folding the paper back in half, the potions master topped the edge lightly against his thin lips. The younger vampire was trying, that at least was reassuring. He was also respectfully circumspect regarding the goblet of Snape's own blood that he been left in case the potion didn't work. He refused to consider the careful layering of charm he'd made around that goblet to make the meal more appetizing. Leaving the other items where they were, the professor stood and dropped the note into the fire as he passed. He needed sleep, freedom from thought, and the chance to dream. Even if, he suspected, those dreams would revolve, as they so often did, around that same annoying houseguest.

^^^^^^^

In her time as a guidance counselor, and in training the Potentials, Buffy had learned one very important fact about teaching in general. It was not possible to speak to any two students in the same way. However, she quickly found that the four distinct house mindsets made it easier to approach her classes.

There had been some initial anxiety, especially after Giles was summoned to the Ministry for a week's worth of meetings on the Slayer classification issue. She found herself relying on Professor Potter's lesson structure, interspersed with her own experience anecdotes.

The Ravenclaw students liked to hear about the Scooby research parties. They were enthralled when she shared the story of how Willow had used the Scythe to awaken all potential slayers everywhere. When she brought the weapon itself out and it sang under her expert hands, they were enraptured.

The Slytherin students were occupied with stories on how cunning or quick thinking saved her life. Some were indignant, some understanding of the Council's motives, when she told the tale of the Cruciamentum. They were equally fascinated that she had faced a vampire with no more defense on her side than those of a common Muggle and walked away through well-used trickery.

The Hufflepuff students liked stories of the Scooby Gang as a group. They sniffed when she told of the sacrifices she'd made in order to fulfill her calling as a Slayer. Neither the wizards nor the witches were ashamed to say they wept when she spoke of dying to close Glory's portal and save her sister.

The Gryffindors wanted to hear of glorious bravery. Their concentration was fully on her as she explained about her battle with the Master and her fights with Angelus. They listened in shock as she calmly admitted to dying multiple times and took to hear the lessons on dark magic surrounding her second rise from the dead. But it seemed they were happiest to hear that a person could overcome impossible odds to find peace, however temporary.

That first week had, admittedly, been easy for Buffy. While there were lessons, she mostly taught them to accept that their professor was the oldest living Slayer ever. It was convenient that Professor Potter had always built in the same space to acclimatize his students to being taught by the Boy Who Lived.

Having made it through the week, her last Friday class of first year Slytherin and Ravenclaw were quietly reading. She looked up from the notes she was making towards the front of the room, feeling a change in the castle around her. That change was quickly explained when Professor Potter stepped in the door.

"May I speak with you, Professor Summers?"

Buffy was surprised, but managed not to show it too much. She checked the time and then spoke to her bare handful of students. "Class dismissed. Don't forget to have five inches on the difference between a hex and a curse for Monday."

The Ravenclaw students exited quickly, but the lone Slytherin held back a moment. "Uncle Harry?"

Buffy's eyes widened slightly, but she watched in silence as the other professor responded. "Ginny, it's good to see you."

The wizard hugged the young girl, bringing a hint of pleasure to her strained face.

"Grandma's been asking about you."

Harry smiled, sitting on a student bench to lessen the height difference between the two of them. "You can tell her I'll be just fine."

The girl nodded before continuing, "They're still kinda upset about my sorting."

He just reached out and hugged the child again. "There's no shame in being a Slytherin, Ginny. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me there first."

"Then why were you in Gryffindor?"

"That's a story for another day."

Ginny looked from her Uncle Harry to Professor Summers before leaving the room with a quick, "Sorry."

When the door had closed behind the girl, Harry pulled out his wand and quickly warded it with locking and silencing spells. He turned back to the blonde professor and paused at the wariness and tension in her stance. Observing that she had a hand just out of sight and poised within a drawer of the desk, Harry shifted his grasp on the wand until he was holding it with only the barest tips of two fingers.

"I'm not a threat, I just didn't want any students listening in."

Buffy's stance didn't relax, as she kept her well-trained guard up against the fledgling vampire. "I thought you weren't allowed out without an escort?"

He winced at the suspicion in her tone, knowing that the Boy Who Lived and the Slayer Who Died Twice would probably have gotten along under other circumstances. Unfortunately, they were separated by the gulf of instinct and species conflict, not to mention he'd already attacked her once. Harry settled on shrugging slightly before replying, "I've really never been that good about following the rules."

Buffy was, as yet, unswayed. Harry quickly continued, knowing that he needed her to find her comfort zone before they would accomplish anything. "Look, I just need to talk to you."

She nodded, pulling her hand from the drawer with a stake in her grasp. Laying it on the desk within easy reach, she settled back in her chair. "Put your little stick on the desk and keep your hands away from it. Talk and behave yourself, then neither of us will get hurt."

He chuckled, laying his wand in the carved groove present on all Hogwarts student desks. Keeping his hands in clear view, he spoke, "I wanted your opinion on this prophecy and my Voldemort problem."

"Giles explained it to me."

Harry found his attention drawn from the young woman to the late afternoon sun glinting in the window. He shook himself, dragging his thoughts back to the Slayer and her bemused expression. She seemed to be suppressing laughter.

"Is it drugs, or dark magics?"

He was definitely confused as he questioned, "What?"

"When Xander was that spaced, it was the pain pills. With Willow, it was dark magics. Which are you on?"

Comprehension spread rapidly across the young wizard's features. "Calming potions. Lack of strong emotions makes this easier."

"Angel mentioned something about that. I think he used martial arts katas, though."

The Defense Professor in Harry chose that moment to wake up entirely. "Angelus, the Scourge of Europe?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, him."

"You discussed vampirism with the Scourge of Europe?"

"He was helping me, we talked, we dated, then things got ugly. I thought you all knew this."

Almost to himself, Harry remarked, "So that's why you're so comfortable with the ensouled vampire idea." Then, with more focus, "I know some of the major details of your term as Slayer, but I've been rather busy."

"With this Voldatorn guy?"

Harry smirked. "Call him Tom."

"Tom?"

"That's his real name."

Buffy smiled in response. "Closest I ever had was a Frankenstein wannabe by the name of Adam."

"Adam?"

"Yep." Starting to look rather impatient, she continued, "So what exactly did you want?"

"Oh, yes. There was some mention of hand to hand combat."

"Uh huh. Giles said your prophecy mentions someone's gotta die at the hand of someone else."

"And you and Giles believe this is a literal reference?"

The blonde just shrugged. "I've been screwed over by a lot of prophecies. If I've learned one thing, it's that you prepare for the worst possible outcome and hope you've thought far enough ahead."

Harry made a slight noise of agreement. "Would you teach me?"

"What?"

"Teach me. Enough hand to hand combat to win."

"Why don't you ask another wizard?"

"Because I can't hurt you." Harry's face was coldly honest and determined. "Most wizards don't look beyond their wands. Of those who would know enough to share, I don't have enough control to be safe."

"But you have enough to walk around a school full of kids?" The sarcastic doubt was obvious.

"I'm not intentionally working up violent emotions." The rakish grin was enough for Buffy to appreciate that this was a good-looking young man.

"Why don't you ask the big grouch to teach you? I doubt you can hurt him."

It was a testament to the Potions Master's reputation that Harry knew instantly of whom she spoke. "Snape?" I'm sure he'd know how, but I don't want to ask him."

"Why not?"

"He's doing enough for me. I can't burden him with anything else."

Buffy sighed heavily. "Fine, I'll teach you. Not like I'm getting any good action on patrol anymore."

"When would you be available?"

"Is ten nightly all right? The Slayer thing makes you a night owl."

"Classic predator adaptation, being awake when your prey would be."

"But without the funky alien dreadlocks."

The pop culture reference went right over the Boy Who Lived, judging from the confusion on his face. Still, he nodded his agreement before making his way back out into the halls to demonstrate he still lived to a few more witnesses.

^^^^^^^

After almost two weeks of training with the Slayer, Harry had come to the realization that the Ministry may have been right. This blonde, shorter even than himself, was a dangerous creature that took perverse pleasure in kicking his arse around the modified training space.

However, it was with some relief that he acknowledged rather than making his darker impulses stronger, the regular violent activity was soothing his demon. It was an interesting conflict that he spent some time discussing with Professor Giles. The discussions were often his desperate attempt to avoid the manic energy of his trainer.

His second major realization was that Severus Snape was avoiding him. At first he'd thought the lack of contact was due to their respective busy schedules. The professor, after all, was actively teaching, brewing twice the necessary vampiric maintenance potions, and still found the time to leave Harry's meals in a convenient goblet. Harry knew that with his recent acquisition of a bare amount of control he had become equally busy. Other than rapidly gulping the other professor's blood donation and sleeping the sleep of the heavily drugged, he barely saw the dungeon quarters between his combat training and research in the Restricted Section. It seemed like coincidence that they hadn't run across each other.

Then he remembered that very little concerning the highly regimented Potions Master was coincidence. He knew that he had been using the time to think, but had known he would have to speak with the prickly man to refine some of his thoughts.

The question was, how did he force the issue? And, what exactly did he wish to accomplish with the man?

^^^^^^^

Midnight was a safe time to return to his quarters, Severus knew. By that time, the brat was finished with his training and deep in his induced sleep. He'd doubted that the slightly naive younger man noticed his avoidance. Certainly, he believed strongly that his presence was in no way missed.

The separation of them was necessary for his state of mind and definitely to allow him to preserve his rigid self-control. The potions master simply wasn't sure haw many more instances of outburst he would be able to weather before acting on his own impulses. He knew such action would be inappropriate and unwanted. He knew it with the conviction of a man who has been needed, but undesired, for the majority of his life.

The tightly closed guest room door appeased his sense of distance. Forgoing the wash room, a general, but strong and thorough, cleaning charm satisfied his exhaustion as he went directly past his bedroom door and warded it closed behind him.

Only once he'd dropped both outer robe and waistcoat to the ground in an unusual fit of untidiness did he realize that the room felt wrong. Turning, he immediately spotted the Bane of His Existence curled into a chair in front of his banked fire. He wondered for a moment why scent had not given the other man away, before recognizing that Harry had eschewed his own bathing potions for those of the older professor. The familiar tang, layered on top of the individual base of Harry Potter, brought an immediate and deep reaction. With such an unspoiled opportunity, he indulged in a rare bout of unrestrained emotion and simply watched the younger man sleep. It was odd to note the lack of breath, but a reality that he had become accustomed to in himself. The silence of the quarters stretched out, soothing the ragged edges of a day filled with dunderhead children.

It was only when he began to ponder how pleasant this circumstance would be to repeat that he forcibly reapplied his cold bastard expression. Flicking his wand, the fire flared to crackling life, providing a flush of warmth to cold quarters and limbs. One could possibly assume it was a nice way to wake someone up, that burst of gentle heat. But, no, the Potions Master wasn't a nice man. He was cruel, cold, and harsh. And that would be why he waited for Harry to blink himself to a waking awareness before speaking in a deceptively gentle tone.

"Potter, what are you doing here?"

Harry blinked at him a few more times before stretching on the seat with the lithe movements of a great cat. Snape suspected that if the other man ever finished his Animagus studies he might find himself a lynx. He quickly quashed the thought that those unnaturally green eyes would be breathtaking against a pure black pelt.

"Your chair's very comfortable."

The Potions Master was not surprised to receive anything but a straight answer from the other man. Judging from the idle twitching of his lips, Harry also knew what he'd done.

"I did not invite you to partake of the comforts of my chair, Potter."

Harry smiled and couldn't resist teasing at the sharp edges of propriety. "Well, you've been so accommodating with everything else."

Snape stepped closer to the chair, intimidating even in his dishabille. "Out, Potter."

Harry took a moment to appreciate the pure physical charisma of the other professor. From the long legs, encased in fine black wool, to the black leather boots, to the formal shirt of white linen and tightly knotted cravat, his eyes roamed freely. Seeing the man without that obsessively formal waistcoat and teaching robes, he noted that his cuff links were silver coils of tightly wound snake figures. He wondered if the cravat was usually knotted like it was currently. Sparks of memory suggested it had been slightly lower before. A wicked smirk crept onto his face at the idea of the Professor girding himself against the advances of the Boy Who Lived's personality problem.

Snape's eyes narrowed warningly at the facial expression. "I do not have time for your emotional instability, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "It's odd how we can limit or restrict everything else, but even things like us need sleep."

"Nor do I have the patience for a psychological discussion."

The younger wizard shifted, folding his hands on his stomach and crossing his ankles. He stared calmly at the potions master for a long moment. Snape, in an action that practically conceded defeat, dropped into the matching chair. His posture was stiff and jaw rigid, a distinct difference from his uninvited guest.

Harry finally spoke again when the Potions Master gestured impatiently. "It's how you stay in control, isn't it?"

The other man only continued to look irritated. "What is, Potter?"

"By suppressing how you really feel."

Snape sneered. "I assure you, Potter. I am expressing a very genuine annoyance with your presence."

"But that's not all you feel, it's just all you'll show."

The Potions Master's eyes narrowed until they were black slits of glittering animosity. "What are you going on about?"

Harry smiled and replied with one word, "Legilimens." His foray into mind and memory was shunted into a hard stop. Snape was now leaning forward in the chair, rage filling his features.

"How dare you!"

Harry didn't move in his seat as he replied, "Why are you avoiding me?"

"Your capacity to irritate is matched only by your astonishing immaturity!"

"Is that why you're avoiding me?"

Snape began to splutter incoherently, none of his vitriolic temper making it successfully past his clenched jaw. The younger man slipped forward in his chair until he dropped lightly to kneel on the gray stone of the floor. It should not have been graceful, his sliding movements forward, but some preternatural knack made it so. He halted at the Potions Master's feet, hands palm-up on his own thighs. When he reached forward, toward the older man's legs, Snape stopped him by placing a boot in the center of his chest.

"What are you doing, Potter?" For the first time in Harry's memory, the professor looked uncertain.

"I have respected you for a long time. Since I could see past my own worldview to the larger picture, that is. Sometime in sixth year, if I recall."

His non sequitur of a response was accompanied by his hands grasping the boot on his chest, fingers sliding barely into the pant leg to work the single buckle, and then pulling the fine leather from the other man's foot. Snape had still initially at the forward actions, but quickly placed his stocking-clad foot back on the floor.

"Potter."

The quelling tone had no effect on the fledgling who was now divesting him of the second boot. "Then, in seventh year, I finally realized that Tom wasn't just going to drop dead and make things easy on me. I'd put any semblance of a personal life on hold, thinking everything would be okay when I graduated. Girls were still a mystery, though, and I was horrified to find myself thinking that Malfoy had a fine arse."

He chuckled before continuing, "But not nearly as horrified as when I woke up to damp sheets and pajamas after a dream about you."

Emerald eyes looked up a moment to catch the confusion in the dark gaze locked on him. Harry ignored the Potions Master's lack of reaction to continue his ministrations as he spoke. Pulling off the man's stockings, he ran his fingers over the soles of the elegant, pale, feet that arched responsively at his lightest touch.

"When we started working together, and finally managed to have a decent conversation, I realized that there was more to you than the bastard of a greasy git that you show your students. I found I could appreciate your sharpness and actually liked you."

Snape had leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes, face immobile. Of all the senses caused by the demonic influence, he found this the most painful by far. Still, he also found himself unable to bring it to the usual violent conclusion.

With eyes closed, he hadn't seen the younger wizard moved, but drew in a sharp gasp of air when hands were suddenly placed on his thighs. Snape opened his eyes to meet startlingly verdant depths too close to his.

"Potter." The tone was now pleading, the word dawn out as his control was tested.

Harry didn't budge, steadily meeting his gaze as he leaned against the man's lap. "I don't think I love you. I'm not even sure what love is. But I respect you. I like you. I'm still attracted to you."

He leaned closer, the air behind his words teasing at the other man. "I don't want to be alone anymore, Severus."

The older professor closed his eyes again, relishing the sweet ache of his name being spoken in such a needy manner by this singularly gifted wizard. But, it didn't matter. However much he wanted this, he would not take something that would cause the younger man regret when he was once more in hold of himself.

"Potter, please stop this."

"Why? I know you care about me."

With a deep, though unnecessary, breath, the Potions Master hardened his face before meeting the pleading gaze. He sat forward slightly, using a hand on the other man's shoulder to push him away. "You neither know nor want what you're asking."

Quick fingers, slightly Quidditch roughened, caught the hand on his shoulder and he drew the thumb into his mouth. After a hard suck, he drew it back out with the slightest pressure of teeth.

"I'm not a virgin. I know precisely what I'm asking for and I want it with you."

"Potter." He looked away to the fire, but still couldn't rid his brain of the sensation of those delectable lips teasing at the pad of his thumb.

"My name is Harry, Severus."

His hand was only being held by now, a gentle pressure bringing him back to meet the younger man's eyes. "If you don't want me, please just tell me."

There was only so long a man could be expected to retain reason. Severus Snape was, after all, a potions master and former spy... not a saint. A fast movement found his free hand buried in messy raven hair as he was dragging a quite willing participant into a passionate kiss.

^^^^^^^

Albus Dumbledore was a man who missed very few meals, or their accompanying desserts. It was indeed unusual for him to have been absent from the evening repast. While he was expecting some concern from his faculty, he had not expected his deputy to come whirling into his office with the voracity of a cyclone.

"Albus, I insist that you do something about this."

He paused, hand in the air clutching his favor candy on the way to his mouth. Popping it inside, he questioned, "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"No, I don't want a piece of your infernal sweets."

Professor McGonagall began to pace in front of the Headmaster's desk. "I thought, after the last couple of years, that they had settled their differences."

"Whom?"

"Potter and Snape, of course. They've been so well behaved." She stopped, leaning one hand on the desk. "Albus, I know you've said that Harry hasn't fully recovered, but you must do something."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled merrily. "Has something occurred?"

Minerva scowled in a fashion more seen on the aforementioned Potions Master than her typically stern but kind visage. "Living together for a month? I think you have lost your sanity. For the last two weeks, they've been picking at each other in public again. Tonight at dinner, which you should have attended, Severus was outright snarking at the poor boy!"

Albus looked unconcerned. "And what did Harry do?"

"He sniped right back!"

"Ah."

The Deputy Headmistress sat herself in one of the chairs facing the desk. "You must do something about this. If Severus behaves so in public, there's no telling how he treats the boy in private."

The Headmaster's barely perceptible grin was definitely aggravating the witch. "I think we should trust Harry to tell us if the situation becomes unbearable."

"Albus..."

Dumbledore turned back to the documents on his desk, a clear sign that he was finished. "He's a grown man, Minerva."

With an exasperated exhalation, she surrendered for now and left the office.

^^^^^^^

Harry had never recognized that the staffroom had such an effectively placed decorative rail running around the room. Considering it was the only thing currently supporting him from sliding down the wall, it was a relatively new thought. Almost as if reading his thoughts, his lover slid potion-stained fingers down to cup under his arse. Harry spread his legs, bringing their bodies flush against each other.

With a moan at the delicious sensation of being trapped between the equally unforgiving stone wall and Potions Master, he lifted his legs and locked his feet behind the other man's thighs. Occupied as they were in devouring each other orally, neither noticed the shocked Scotswoman who had entered the room.

"Severus Snape, what are you doing?"

The tones of demand and outrage acted like a bucket of ice water on the pair's libido. Severus drew back from the kiss, his horrified features reflecting that he recognized the voice of the Deputy Headmistress. Harry, safely hidden as he was behind the larger mass of the Potions Master, began to snigger.

"What is going on here, Professor Snape?"

Not even a sharply hissed, "Shut up, Brat," was enough to quell the other man's giggles as he now pressed his face against his lover's robes.

"I'm waiting, Professor."

Silently thanking Merlin that the woman had stayed across the room, Severus schooled his voice to reply calmly. "If we could have a moment to compose ourselves?"

"I think not. This is a staffroom, not a boudoir." The quick, biting reply was causing his partner to shake anew in hilarity, something that not even his glare could bring to a stop.

"You will explain yourself and release whomever you have there."

Harry was now muffling outright laughter in his lover's robes, his clenched hands wrinkling them across the chest. Nevertheless, he cooperated by lowering his legs back to the floor. With a last squeeze to the younger man's arse, the Potions Master remarked, "This was not how I planned to reveal our relationship."

Harry finally managed to find his composure. "You know the effect I have on plans," was his barely muttered response.

As the Potions Master stepped back, Harry was able to step to the side and reveal himself as the recipient of the enthusiastic snogging.

"My apologies for our behavior, Professor."

The Deputy Headmistress seemed to be having a touch of difficulty reconciling the information before her. Her mouth was hanging open in a most unflattering manner. "Harry... Severus... You..."

It was the perfect occasion for a snark, and the older wizard made no efforts to resist. "We can demonstrate if you did not comprehend previously."

Harry took a quick glance at the deceptively innocent look on his lover's face. "You have a previously unexpected exhibitionist side, don't you?"

Severus merely smirked in reply.

Both were somewhat surprised when, rather than a lecture on their unprofessional behavior, the Transfiguration professor began to rail against the Headmaster. "That frustrating old coot! He knew all along. You're going to hear it this time, Albus."

Still muttering to herself, Professor McGonagall left the room. By lunch the next day, every staff member was in on this latest piece of unanticipated gossip. Some students were starting to wonder why Professor Potter was walking around with a perpetual blush. The others were trying to figure out what had put the greasy bastard in such a good mood, as they had hardly lost any points. Several of them were campaigning heavily behind the idea that the Potions Master's perpetual 'cat who ate the canary' smirk was a sign of the apocalypse.

Very few understood Professor Summer's remark after overhearing this in class, "They rarely have signs." Even fewer understood why Professor Giles kept coughing in his pumpkin juice at Professor Snape's and Professor Potter's continued verbal by-play.

^^^^^^^

Despite his newfound control, Harry persuaded the Headmaster to retain his substitutes. This extra time allowed him the luxury of continuing to research his Voldemort problem. As he was digging through ancient texts with renewed enthusiasm, he accepted that he finally had a better outlook for after the war. Even with this zest and his steadily erotic nighttime, he still couldn't say if he loved the other man.

Halloween was fast approaching and with it, Harry's good mood had begun to deteriorate. Guilt was beginning to creep in regarding what he was doing with the Potions Master. Their time together had changed from purely sexual to companionable as well. With that change, he was able to see that the older man not only cared for him, but loved him deeply. His own confused feelings were shoved aside as he renewed his efforts to find a way to finally free them all from this war.

His concentration on this work was resulting in fewer public appearances which, in turn, spurred talk of a relapse in his health. Very few things were dragging him away from the books, other than the occasionally personal indulgence. This was why, after a week hidden away in the dungeon and library, he appeared at dinner just in time to partake of a large helping of his favorite dessert... treacle tart.

Consumed with gustatory enjoyment, he hadn't noticed he'd been messier than usual. Not even when Professor Snape had thrown a napkin at him and remarked, "Really, Potter. What kind of image are you presenting of a Hogwarts professor?" He'd stilled, missing the glance of concern as the linen fluttered uselessly to the floor. Jumping up from his seat, he was halfway to the side door before turning back and stopping in front of Professor Snape.

Leaning down to the seated man, he pressed a fast, hard kiss on closed lips and added, "You're a genius," before leaving the Great Hall.

In his rush and absorption, Harry missed many things. He didn't hear the shocked silence of the students. He didn't see his colleagues trying to mask their humor. He didn't watch Severus' face go from confusion to indignation to the glare that threatened the students dire results should they gossip about him. And, oddly enough, he didn't notice the treacle smear at the side of his mouth that had precipitated the entire event.

^^^^^^^

At the scheduled Order meeting for that week, Harry would finally reveal his plan. No amount of questioning, fueled by a twinkling gaze and sweets as neither Harry nor Severus were in the temper to withhold sex, could persuade him to reveal himself early.

When the Hogwarts contingent flooed into Grimmauld Place, they were the last to arrive. Harry had time to wave to the Weasley gathering, several of whom were eyeing him speculatively, before taking his seat next to the Headmaster. He missed the suspicious look from Remus Lupin that settled first on himself, then the Potions Master skulking in the corner of the room.

"There is nothing new to report, why don't you share your ideas with us, Harry?"

At the Headmaster's invitation, Harry stood and took a small item out of his pocket. With a tap of his wand, it was resized into a short stack of magazines. "If everyone would pass these around and take a quick look, we can get started."

A voice from the back, accompanied by Bill Weasley's wicked grin, broke through the soft rustlings. "Oy, Harry! What's this my daughter was saying about you snogging Professor Snape in the Great Hall?"

Harry flushed bright red, having heard many rejoinders about his idiotic lack of restraint in that incident. Shaking his head, he smiled at the group of Weasleys and their trouble-making. "Brilliant plans first, personal harassment later."

The idle chuckles at his response were broken by Tonks when she got a good look at the magazine's cover. "Merlin, Harry. What have you done?"

As Harry addressed the group, he had the slightest of self-satisfied smiles. "I'm using the Umbridge defense against Voldemort. The issue of The Quibbler that you are now reviewing goes on sale tomorrow. Take a good look at the story topics. I'm sure they'll be well talked about soon."

Dark Lord's Muggle Past! Crying in the Dark: An Orphanage Report! The Pureblood Myth! You Know Who Revealed! The titles screamed up at them in lurid text from the page, where a handsome portrait of a prefect Tom Riddle smiled and winked.

"Voldemort and the Death Eaters maintain part of their power through fear. A good bit of that fear is ignorance. You could say I'm demystifying the Dark Lord."

The Headmaster was sniggering into his copy of the magazine as Harry spoke. "Copies of the birth, death, and marriage records as well as the orphanage file have been sent to every wizarding publication. I'm wagering that several will be picking up the story as well."

Shacklebolt spoke up from the side, "How are you connecting Tom Riddle and Voldemort on paper?"

Harry sighed before responding. "For that portion, I'm going to have to apologize to Ginny."

The redhead looked surprised, but as comprehension seeped into her eyes, she clutched her fiancé's hand. Neville, still recovering from the snogging Snape comment, winced at her grip.

"Dobby had stored the diary and sock that freed him after the Chamber of Secrets incident in my second year of school. I'm sure the public will enjoy the whining of a sixteen year old Voldemort, as well as his plans for world domination."

At the combined snorts and giggles, his stilled for a moment. The next question came from very familiar tones at the side of the room. Snape was shaking his head. "How do you have any idea that this puerile publication will affect him?"

"Image."

At the questioning eyebrow, Harry clarified. "Voldemort has worked very hard to present the perfect image of a pureblood elitist. I am revealing that image to be false."

Sudden understanding hit the Potions Master and several Order members were surprised to hear him chuckle. Mad-Eye Moody spoke up. "How does this help us stop them?"

Harry nodded to himself and turned to a back page of the magazine. "That's where I come in. Without a Dark Lord, the Death Eaters will crumble and be as containable as they ever were the first time. It's not a perfect solution, but it's at least not open war. I expect that even the most hesitant publication will carry my statement."

He cleared his throat before continuing. "Tom operates only in shadow. This is a reflection of his own fear. He was stopped the first time by a baby. It's only proper that he should fear a rematch with a fully grown and trained wizard."

Harry shrugged. "There's more, of course. It all makes me sound like an arrogant berk, but it will draw him out."

^^^^^^^

As the meeting began to break up, Harry was not looking forward to the Weasley interrogation about his personal life. However, he didn't expect the sudden iron grip on his bicep that dragged him into the pantry. Harry watched wide-eyed as his honorary godfather warded the door and turned to him.

"Remus, are you feeling okay?" It was slightly unnerving to the younger man to see Moony looking this upset.

"Is this his fault?"

"What?"

"Did he change you?"

Harry gaped at the other wizard as the man continued to speak. "If he did this so he could have you, I'll kill him."

"Remus, what are you talking about?"

The sandy-haired man stepped closer and thumped a hand on Harry's chest. "You have no heartbeat. Albus may trust Snape, but I'll kill him if he did this."

"Severus has kept me alive, Remus. This is Voldemort's fault."

The wizard stared at him a moment, still suspicious. "Has he taken advantage of you in any way?"

"More like I took advantage of him. If you knew about Severus, why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I'm rather a good example that all dark creatures aren't evil, wouldn't you say?"

Harry grinned as the other man continued. "I may have trouble finding a job, but if people knew about him it would be a swift Ministry-sanctioned execution. He doesn't deserve that and neither do you."

With that sentiment still between them, the younger wizard spoke up. "I want to ask you for a promise, Remus." Golden eyes watched him in confusion, but Moony didn't interrupt. "I've found a way to kill Voldemort, but it may destroy me as well. If Severus makes it through and I don't... take care of him."

"Harry?"

"I'm not planning to die, but it could happen. Just don't let him do anything dramatic."

"Would he?"

"I don't know. He loves me and he's lost much in his life."

"He's not a casual man, Harry. Are you certain this is who you want?"

The smile gave Remus all the answer he truly needed. "I'm pretty sure I love him."

^^^^^^^

As Harry had expected, the story was both top news and thoroughly infuriated Voldemort. He continued to train with the Slayer and review his preparations. Professor Giles had been accepted with some hesitation by the Order due to his own Death Eater history, but it could not be denied that he was now most definitively on the side of good.

Finally, after two weeks of skirmishes and saber rattling, the second war against Voldemort had come down to open combat outside Hogsmeade. News of the gathering of dark wizards had spurred necessary actions: the evacuation of the town, mustering of the Order, and locking the younger students in for their own protection. Several of the professors had protested letting the seventh year students fight if they wished. For those who had reached their majority, there was really nothing that could be done to stop them.

Harry's attention was drawn from the perusal of both side of this conflict by the voice of the young blonde stepping up beside him. "The Headmaster has asked me to make sure you reach your target."

He nodded, still looking over the gathered wizards. "So, can you point him out?" She sounded impatient and he gestured to the opposite crowd.

"Pale guy, red eyes, no mask, center of their lines."

Buffy took a good look. "Ewww."

Harry only nodded absently.

"You need to focus and stop looking for him."

The wizard turned to her. "Excuse me?"

"Giles and Grumpy-butt are with Dumbledore. Focus on what you need to do and don't think about anything else."

"I didn't get the chance to tell him..."

The blonde's voice was uncharacteristically introspective. "He knows."

Harry stared at her a moment, then nodded to himself again. She had been in this position before and certainly had the experience to know what she advised.

At some invisible sign, the two sides fell on each other with a rush of spellfire, incantations, and pained effects. When he saw a seventh year Ravenclaw fall to slices across her abdomen, he knew that Voldemort was responsible for an entire generation's lost innocence. Then there was nothing to be done but surrender conscious thought to combat instinct. He had, at least, listened when the Slayer suggested most battles were too crowded for anything more than a short or one-handed sword. Luckily, he had used one before.

It was almost a rhythm of movement. He cast a curse to injure or maim, dodged or blocked the spells aimed at himself, kept a path clear around him with short slashing movements that flashed the name 'Godric Gryffindor', and occasionally pushed the Slayer out of the way of a curse she hadn't seen. Although he was the only combatant on the field not paired with a witch or wizard, he was probably the least concerned with his partner's health. The fierce blonde kicked a robed arm to the side, snatched the deflected wand out of the air, and snapped it in a smooth movement. Without hesitation, the unidentified Death Eater was then used to physically block an incoming rush of green light. War meant death and it was never pretty or easy.

Repetition was the key. He screamed Latinate syllables. He slashed, lunged, got caught in the fresh meat of a recent corpse. He was pulled back, the sword now lost behind a pair of fighters. Obscenely well-manicured hands turned him, pointing. There, in a clear space slightly elevated, was his target.

Harry rushed forward, Buffy falling behind as she held off the Death Eaters who pursued him. It wasn't hard to drag forth the hatred, the desire for death and pain, or the pure willful intent. "Avada Kedavra!"

Green light flared forth from his wand, but was met in the air with the Dark Lord's own, "Crucio!" They stared at the other as the gold line formed, met, and held their wands. More lines crept out, creating the odd bubble of the Priori Incantatem effect. Synchronized in a macabre dance, they both reached into their robes, drawing second wands with their off hands.

The Killing Curse rang out in two voices. This time the green light met and merged before becoming a silver pulse that disintegrated the backup wands. Voldemort profaned Harry's lineage and personal habits in Parseltongue before speaking directly to him in the language of snakes.

"How did you know?"

"That you made a wand with a scale of Nagini? I've been watching you for years."

"Ignorant child, I will destroy you."

"I'm offended, no offers to join you first?"

"You will die, Harry Potter. Screaming for mercy, just like your Mudblood mother."

They were intent on their private battle, the beads moving along the wand connection back and forth. The outside combat began to slow as the participants saw them. It was universally acknowledged that the outcome of this duel would decide the war.

Harry stepped forward and the golden connection flared before it flexed and adapted to the altered distance. When he took another step and it happened again, Voldemort began to appear suspicious.

"What are you doing?"

He smiled and moved closed, the two opponents now barely feet apart. "Surely you're not worried, Tom?"

Another step. "After all, you're going to kill me."

A last step, a foot and half of force separating their wand tips with the beads quivering in the center under the pressure. "But you forgot, Tom. You already did."

He released the inner demon, face morphing as his eyes went flat murky yellow. Voldemort scowled, the expression twisting his flat scaly face. Harry moved, preternatural reflexes and strength dominating his foe. He dragged his enemy to him with his left hand. Their wands touched and flared as the dome flashed solid gold.

"As I drain your life, you will fade and your soul stand for judgment. Animus Censura Caelestis."

Harry forced the spell across the wand's touching connection, embedding the words directly into the core of the Dark Lord's power. Striking, his teeth sank into the pale neck. Voldemort struggled, but his time was well and truly over.

^^^^^^^

The combat had ceased when the dome flared solid gold. There was an odd, expectant silence. When it faded with the barest whisper of power, the combatants looked to see the fate of their world. Harry was turned away from them, but even at a distance the young man was covered in vivid, liquid, red. He released the body clutched to him and it fell to the ground with a slight noise. Bending, there was the echoing snap of wood before he dropped the two wand pieces on the corpse.

"LATOTNINOITCURTSED"

Eerie blue light consumed the last remains of the Dark Lord and the magic danced over the victor as well, wiping him clean of blood.

Harry turned to face them and the odd silence broke. Screaming outrage, a black-cloaked figure ripped free of his mask. As a sudden gust blew long white-blond hair, a shouted "Incendio!" hit the savior. Faster than any, except those who knew his altered nature, could expect, the spell wrought its fury. The Man Who Defeated Voldemort dissolved into a puff of dust.

When his wand dropped uselessly to the ground, the faint sound was masked by a roar of incensed fury. Before anyone would react, Snape had paced the few short yards to Lucius Malfoy and snapped his neck. In the odd tension as the Potions Master began to step towards Harry's fallen wand, the Headmaster's voice echoed, "Surrender."

Their remaining foes began to lay down arms, the warriors of light taking them into custody in a daze.

^^^^^^^

Harry had heard a yell, then the excruciating pain overtook him. His eyes snapped closed and as he opened his mouth to scream, the pain disappeared. Confused, he opened his eyes to see a white marble room in the Grecian style. Turning, he stumbled slightly.

Watching him, flanking a pearly basin that reminded him of a large pensieve, were two very odd people. A man and woman, their pale gold skin was veined with blue and purple and their garments were simple. The combat still pulsing through his system, he demanded, "Who are you?"

Their replies were calm and oddly detached.

"He questions us."

"They always question, they are human."

"Do we answer?"

"We are the Powers."

^^^^^^^

As Dumbledore began to direct the mop-up, Giles stepped away to approach his friend. "Severus?"

The face that turned to him was cold and hard, a stone mask. Giles looked from the Gryffindor's wand gripped by white knuckles to the despair-filled eyes. "Severus."

The words he'd been about to add were halted as the piece of holly snapped under the increasing pressure.

^^^^^^^

"Who or what are you?" Harry went for his wand, but found himself unarmed. "Where am I? How did you bring me here?"

The woman turned to the basin, but the man addressed him. "The prophecy was opposed."

"Prophecy? The one about me?"

"The First has waged war on the balance and corrupted the outcome."

He stepped towards the man, his demand sounding increasingly like a plea. "What are you talking about?"

^^^^^^^

When Snape stepped towards him, Giles instinctively moved back. The voice that met his ears was ragged with suppressed emotion.

"Would you grant me that which I once denied you?"

The confusion showed on Giles face before drunken memories surfaced of him after Buffy died stopping Glorificus... Of him pleading for Snape to have mercy and kill him.

"Severus, no!"

^^^^^^^

"The balance must be restored."

When the man turned from him to look into the basin, Harry moved forward. His curiosity was satisfied when the woman touched the surface.

It rippled. Then, with no small amount of shock, he watched his victory and subsequent death.

"I'm dead. Really dead?"

^^^^^^^

The eyes shifted focus and Giles wasn't quick enough to stop the Potions Master before he strode past. The long pace ate up the distance to his quarry.

"Professor Summers?"

The blonde looked up, having gotten the sword finally unstuck from between ribs. When she met his gaze, her head was rocked to the side with the strength of the backhanded blow he delivered. She was highly pissed when she asked him, "What the fuck is your problem?"

^^^^^^^

"Death maintains balance."

"Your death has disrupted the balance."

His brain was working overtime to keep up as Harry recalled every bit of origin theory and tried to understand where he was currently.

"I wasn't supposed to die?"

His question seemed to spark another of those odd detached exchanges that didn't really include him until the end.

"It was not time."

"Time is a precious gift."

"Death was her gift."

"Life is your gift."

^^^^^^^

The Potions Master had no reply for the Slayer, but hit her again. The blow knocked her head in the other direction and she knew she'd have matching bruises for a few days.

Furious, she punched. The strike tossed him back several feet and knocked him on his ass. The blonde barely registered Giles' bellow of "Buffy, no!"

^^^^^^^

"Life is my gift?"

Harry was distracted from the perplexing situation when the woman touched the surface again. The scene sped up, shifting.

When he saw the current events, sound now active with a slightly tinny quality, his worried yell echoed in the bare room.

"Severus!"

^^^^^^^

The Slayer paused out of respect for her Watcher. That intentional hesitation was all Snape needed to draw his wand. Aimed at the Slayer, he smirked, but the spirit wasn't behind the expression.

^^^^^^^

"What is this?"

"What's going on?"

"Why won't you answer me?"

^^^^^^^

"Do you really think you can hit me with anything?"

The Potions Master reconsidered and shifted his aim. "Considerate of you to warn me. Here's your option, Professor Summers. Kill me, or I kill him."

Giles halted in shock under the focus of his friend's wand.

Buffy's shocked yell of "What?" caused them to start drawing heavy attention.

^^^^^^^

"Stop this!"

"Please, stop this!!"

"Don't let this happen!"

"Bring him here, please!"

^^^^^^^

"It is a simple choice, Professor."

Giles made a movement, but was halted by Snape casting a body bind on him. The Arcanum never budged his gaze from the blonde.

"You're crazy!"

"Perhaps."

^^^^^^^

"He is corporeal."

"He cannot enter here."

"She'll kill him!"

"Yes."

"She will."

^^^^^^^

The blonde stepped closer, but the Potions Master didn't move away. "I'm just supposed to kill you?"

"Yes."

When she raised her hand with a broken wand improvised as a stake and approached closer, the gaze never faltered. Buffy was conflicted but in an odd way she understood. As she drew her arm back, something flickered in the black eyes and she could barely hear his final words.

"Thank you."

^^^^^^^

"No!"

Harry's scream was pained as he watched his lover disappear into dust.

"It is done."

"The balance begins to return."

He'd hunched in on himself at the emotional pain but glared at the pair.

"Fuck your balance! I loved him!"

The voice from behind him was a chocolate and whiskey surprise. "As I do you, brat."

Harry turned, his face as confused as the Potions Master's. "Severus?"

The golden pair conversed, taking little notice of the mortals moving to embrace.

"The balance is regained."

"Life."

"Death."

"Shanshu."

^^^^^^^

Dumbledore freed Giles from the hex as Remus moved to the troubled Slayer. He was himself concerned, as he had failed Harry in the only recent request the young man had made of him. The Watcher turned to the Headmaster, not truly knowing what to say. The blonde was not as restrained.

"I couldn't let him hurt you, Giles."

Lupin tried to protest, "He wouldn't..."

Giles interrupted him, "He would have."

Their pain, beginning to mutate into grief at the loss of two great wizards, was split in twain by phoenix song magnified over the field. In a fold of purple light, two bodies appeared on the ground wrapped in a tight embrace. Not disturbing the younger man murmuring into his chest, the Potions Master looked up to meet dumbfounded stares.

"I despise melodrama." It was both a warning, and a commentary on his own previous behavior. Giles gave a short bark of laughter at the dry tones.

Remus tilted his head, trying to understand what he was hearing. "Two heartbeats?"

Harry finally dragged his head up, meeting the eyes of the Slayer. "Life is my gift."

She snorted in wry amusement. "Goody, we're a matched set."

Finis

Return to Lakhesis