Ritual of Erosade

Author's Note: This is the de facto sequel to Call of Blood, though it can be read separately it just won't make as much sense.

Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest

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Harry paced the Room of Requirement. He tried not to acknowledge that he doubted, in the barest way, whether Snape would show himself. He knew that the man wanted, needed, control over his inner nature and magic. He knew that the man wanted him physically and emotionally. He knew, in a daringly intimate manner, that he wanted the snarky bastard in return. Then, there was the sheer fact that once this was done, there was no possible parting. Harry had not spent most of his life oscillating between reverence and ostracism without the lingering taint of self-doubt.

Looking over the room and his careful preparations, he noted that it looked more the traditional dungeons than Snape's far more pleasant and comfortable quarters. The cold stone of the walls was not broken here, as it was so frequently in the castle, with any type of hanging or tapestry. The utter lack of decoration was austere and harsh, the cold clean lines broken only for the man-sized fireplace and its roaring orange-red flames.

While he knew that magical fires didn't need to make noise, Harry had never been comfortable unless he could hear the crackle of the fire. And since he well intended to be enjoying this room in the nude, the warmth was quite a necessity.

Stepping to the center of the room, he ran his hand lightly over the smooth carved jade monstrosity of an altar. His imagination must have been working overtime to conjure this from the depths of the room. The book he'd borrowed had merely mentioned an altar. This construct was much more, combining their pasts and future in its twisted figures and dancing symbolism.

Harry flicked his wand, ramping the fire up a notch as cold air played over his bare chest. The jeans from earlier were taught over his erection. Since he'd left Snape's quarters, there'd barely been a moment when he wasn't hard from anticipation. It was, he considered, deliciously painful.

A faint noise drew his attention and he turned to see the door open, then close, admitting the Potions Master. Snape appeared to be unusually hesitant, but then it could not be often that he offered himself as a sacrifice along with his own magic. It was a vulnerable position in which to place a wizard.

When the dark man made no move to come further into the room, Harry stalked towards him. He watched with no small amount of pleasure as the onyx gaze flickered from his bare chest, past his obvious erection, and lingered on his bare feet. Suspecting that the potions master was possessed of possibly more than one kink he could make use of later, he stopped when there were only five feet left between them.

Snape's gaze flicked past Harry, taking notice of the bare room and the elaborate marbled jade altar. He smirked, with a muttered, "Gryffindors."

Harry's eyes ran over the precise features, flicking past the gleaming sheet of raven hair. As he moved down, he realized that there was no hint of white cravat under the high collar of the robes, no flash of the usual white French cuffs at his sleeves. With renewed curiosity and a heavy throb of lust, he skipped past the endless line of buttons to the bare ankles and velvet house slippers.

He couldn't resist the grin at the thought that Severus Snape had walked through Hogwarts in house slippers before meeting the other man's eyes. It was the image, so harsh, so in control, but the preparation to hand himself over. "Slytherins." The one word was almost an endearment, much like Snape's own mutter.

Closing the distance between them, Harry circled the Potions Master. As he passed behind the man, he ran his fingers across the width of the tense back. There was no reaction, but then he would have been disappointed to draw one out with so little. He could admit to himself that he adored the challenge of the other man. It was unsurprising that their almost decade long dance of anger, resentment, and finally grudging respect, should end in something like this scene.

Facing each other once again, emerald eyes met onyx. They were both firmly in control of themselves, though each aware that this was the last time that would be true. When they left this room, Harry would be the one in control. There was enough tender emotion between them that the rest of the world would probably not realize the altered dynamic, but it would be Harry's responsibility to control their magic including the darker impulses of the vampiric nature.

"Do you come to me willingly?"

The words echoed in the space, as their eye contact never broke. Snape had always known that Harry's eyes were clear windows to his thoughts. For the first time, though, Harry could see beyond the heavy shutters the potions master had placed on his own soul.

He received his answer, but not in words. Snape drew his wand from a pocket, flicking it once. Wordless, the high-necked robe and slippers vanished. Twisting the piece of wood in his hand, he offered his wand and, symbolically, his magic to the younger man.

Harry didn't notice the wand at first. He was occupied with what seemed like yards of pale skin. There was only the sparsest collection of crinkled black hairs across the chest, forearms, and thighs. The Dark Mark, a faded reminder like his own scar, had so little bearing on events as to be ignored. His hungry gaze moved, caressing the awakening prick and its own nest of curls, before moving back up.

The lust was plain on his face and he made no efforts to hide it as he met the steady black eyes. When Snape spoke, Harry knew he wasn't the only one on the edge of his control. That voice which could go from arctic chill to purring satisfaction with no hesitation was roughened.

"I offer myself to you, of free will and sound mind."

Harry took an unnecessary step closer, his feet snugged between those of the taller man. Their thighs, groins, chest, all touching, nestled against each other. It wrenched a groan from Harry as he closed his eyes at the contact. From the other wizard, a breathy exhalation.

Raising his head, Harry pressed his lips lightly against his partner's. They moved slowly, carefully, cool dry flesh rubbing gently. After a moment, his patience began to wear thin. With a grasp on the potions master's forearms, Harry steadied himself and raised his body the inch or so needed to exert more pressure. Despite the dominating presence of the older wizard's height, Harry was very aware of the mood he had to create in order to remain in control of the magic once it had risen.

Severus yielded to him with no sound, only the opening of his mouth. As Harry's tongue slipped inside, the tenor of the embrace changed. There was no longer a soft exploration as he demanded capitulation and mapped out territory that now belonged to him. Fingers tightened, leaving marks that would have bruised on a more purely human wizard.

Harry pulled himself back with a great deal of restraint, satisfied as Snape's head bent infinitesimally to follow him and delay the parting. They were both fully aroused at this point, the potions master's demanding prick pressed hard against the younger man's last restraining item of clothing.

Both wizards could feel the rising tide of power in the room. It had a faint scent to the acute nose of the elder… An echo of vanilla and citrus, a combination he'd always identified with the younger man. To the other, it tasted of spice and lemon to reflect his soon to be lover. In its purest form, it was a combination of both of them.

Remembering the almost forgotten offered wand, Harry plucked the wood from the other man's fingers. Turning, he looked across the room and gestured for Snape to precede him. The order had many benefits, not the least of which was Harry admiring the smooth movement of lithe muscles as the Potions Master stalked on silent feet.

When he joined the older man at the altar, he tucked the wands into a convenient niche. The two magical items would nestle together, much as their wizards would shortly. Snape's critical eye roved over the item, observing the detail.

"Potter, what is that?"

He pointed to a vaguely cock shaped protrusion centered on the slab of semi-precious stone. Harry smirked as the questioning glance speared him. His answer was not really an answer at all.

"Do you trust me, Severus?"

There was a last lingering flutter of doubt in the dark eyes, before the professor abandoned his habitual suspicion and mistrust turning to his younger lover. Any concern was banished beneath a cloud of lust as Harry crowded him close into the unyielding stone and grasped his cock in a slightly roughened hand. There were times to maintain tight control, to hold yourself so rigidly that the slightest wind would break you, but the former spy understood that there were also times for surrender.

Severus' mouth dropped open on a wordless sigh and his head fell back as Harry began to move his fist. It took a moment for his rapidly melting brain to register that the other man was speaking.

"Do you trust me, Severus?"

He could barely pant out his response as the stimulation continued. "Yes."

"Do you give yourself to me freely."

"Yes."

He could feel the unoccupied hand drifting across his hip and behind him onto the stone. Harry plucked one of many items secreted about the carved niches, dipped his fingers inside the vial. He restrained a dark chuckle that this was one theft from the Potions Master that he wouldn't be chastised for later.

A slight noise that Snape couldn't identify, then slick fingers were nudging his cheeks apart. His legs moved automatically to allow both hands more space and his head dropped, this time onto the other man's shoulder as he was penetrated. Groaning his pleasure, he turned his head into the neck. It was vaguely startling when he realized that he could both smell and hear the blood just below the surface and he yanked his head back up to meet calm green eyes.

He allowed the fear to show in his eyes, not quashing the emotion as he would have done before. When Harry met the gaze, he could feel the whisper of nonexistent touch and knew the younger man had read his fear. The response, from a man guided to maturity under the worst of situations, was reassuring in its calm acceptance.

"I have you."

They leaned into each other, Severus caught between the firm body of his lover and the unyielding stone behind him. The hands moved in concert on his body, wringing responses from both inside and out as the men kissed deeply. His needy whine was caught in the other mouth as another finger entered his body, stroking in search of that place which would bring him unmatched pleasure. It was the older man's turned to clutch fiercely as his tapered fingers wrapped around bare shoulders. He concentrated what was left of his rational thought on keeping the touch light, skimming over fire-warmed skin. Vaguely, there was the passing wonder about where a nice British young man like Harry, who lived in the northern climes of Scotland, had spent enough time to acquire that sun-kissed gild to his flesh.

"I have you."

Lost in sensation, Severus didn't even notice that the younger wizard hadn't spoken in English. It didn't matter. The power in the room, flowing from both of them and guided by the ritual invocations done before his arrival had meshed some of their abilities.

Tensing at a white-hot spike of pleasure, the potions master didn't notice that the hand on his cock had stopped moving until he felt the ring of pressure at the base. He met the other man's steady gaze, rapidly darkening like the Forbidden Forest at dusk, as Harry hissed his words.

"You come when I allow it."

A silent nod and black eyes were cloaked behind lashes and lids. He gave himself into his lover's control completely, knowing that even were the magic to fail he could not regret something he wanted so dearly. While his fantasies had never indulged in specifics of this nature, his desire for the Man Who Defeated Voldemort was not to be denied. Moving his head, Harry nudged the other head aside with his nose and concentrated the efforts of his tongue on the pale column of neck.

The needy sigh reflected his partner's pleasure and Harry smiled when the breathy, 'Please' came out in Parseltongue. It was a sign of their building success that the pulsing throb of magic was sharing within them both, and he did chuckle darkly this time as he recognized the main ingredient in the lubricant he was using with such efficiency. He didn't lift his head from the neck, timing the movements of his fingers to sink three deep inside with a twist as he bit sharply. As he drew back slightly at the resulting cry of passion, he noted that he'd drawn no blood but had left a clear set of teethmarks. They likely wouldn't fade after this night, acting as a sign of claiming to any others of the blood.

Harry watched as his former professor made the barest of writhing movements. His face slack in desire, those barely perceptible movements rocked him back onto Harry's fingers, then forward to press his prick against the still confining jeans.

"Step up."

It was softly uttered, but clearly commanding. Snape's eyes snapped open, a foot already moving to comply. It was as Harry was instructing him onto the stone structure that he realized it wasn't completely flat. Slightly angled there were obvious depressions, almost like steps for him to mount the thing. As his hands steadied himself against the cool, but rapidly warming, surface, he wondered idly at some of the other indentations.

When he began to climb it backwards, he expected the fingers to withdraw and allow more ease of movement. They did, but not as anticipated. Rather than withdrawing completely, Harry continued to torment and prepare him. Straddling the stone, with Harry still between his spread legs, he lowered a hand behind him when directed.

"Lean back slowly."

As he eased himself down, he felt Harry guiding him and then the fingers withdrew. With an unexpected moan of loss, his eyes darted to meet his lover's when he recognized the shape of the cock shaped protrusion under his arse. A questioning look was met only with reassuring noises as the guiding hands directed him to mount the thing.

With no more hesitation, releasing the last remnants of his sanity into the trust for the man he loved, he allowed the stone to penetrate him as he laid back. It was, to be certain, an odd sensation. His skin chilled again the stone, a surface smoothed and prepared purely for him and his partner's pleasure. The unyielding erection was heavy in him, stretching him apart as the fingers had done earlier. Quickly adapting to the presence, he resisted the urge to fuck himself on the object as he waited for Harry idly wondering how closely the cock-shaped restraint mimicked the shape of the real prick he'd have rather had in his arse.

Harry murmured the faintest of reassurances, leaving the potions master's feet supported on the steps he'd climbed just moments earlier. With a whisper of intention and the redirection of the magic so freely buoying them, the stone reformed to cuff his ankles. With a start, the elegant feet arched to press against the new confinements.

"I have you."

The soft hiss, accompanied by the smoothing hand on his inner thigh, gentled the older wizard down from his surprise. As Harry stepped around the side of the altar, he ran that hand from the thigh, ghosted past the erect prick, and to tease at the dark nipples. Severus arched into the sensation, crying out when his movement was halted by the heavy presence in his arse and sank back against the stone. This only pulled another cry from him as the cock was pressed by his actions against the bud of sensation deep inside.

Harry chuckled, enjoying the rising desperation he could see in the other man's eyes. Those eyes focused on him and narrowed slightly. He only laughed at the implied threat and moved past the man's head to grasp his wrists. Pulling gently, he stretched the potions master to his full length. From knees bent over the end of the slab, to back held flat by the false cock, to arms now bent at the elbow on either side of his head and secured as quickly and efficiently at the wrist as his ankles had been, the professor was definitively at the mercy of his younger colleague.

The restraints did not prevent him from testing the limits of his movement. As he catalogued the growing inability to move, as compared to what freedoms he had expected, he was surprised to note the seeming comfort of the position. Surprisingly gentle hands smoothed the hair around his hand until it was flat out of his face. Severus moved his head slightly to the side, recognizing the feel of a cushioning charm beneath his head, and met his lover's eyes.

"Thank you."

It was not a phrase many heard from the potions master's lips, uttered in these circumstances it caused a deep thrum of lust within his partner. The younger man bent over, bestowing a light kiss upon a softly parted mouth. It was amazingly chaste for the suggestive whisper that accompanied it as he drew his head back.

"Don't thank me yet, Severus. I'm going to make you scream."

The potions master recognized the very Slytherin emotions dancing in his partner's eyes and wondered how this young man had ever been placed in Gryffindor. From his acceptance of the very surreal existence he led, to the blanket forgiveness at Severus' own previous behavior he'd demonstrated non-Slytherin ideals. At the same time, he'd participated in some incredibly secretive and sly endeavors. Not the least of which was their current ritualistic attempt to control the Potions Master's inner nature without changing him into something that would have to be registered with the Ministry.

Severus marveled that anyone could have that level of trust and devotion to himself. As Harry stepped out of his line of sight, he wondered exactly how the younger man was going to make him pay for it.

Harry stepped away from the head of the altar and moved back to Severus' feet. With a gesture of his hand and the flexing of his will, the last barrier between them disappeared. The Parseltongue hissed an invective against several deities at the sudden freeing of his very interested prick. From this angle, Severus could feel the change in the magic of the room, could hear the words of the profanities, but could not see what had caused his lover's exclamation.

Running a hand down his own chest and abdomen, Harry weighed his balls in his hand. He knew that he was far too close. Several years worth of fantasy and he had the Potions Master bound for his pleasure. It sparked a kink he'd hidden from his previous lovers and never thought he would have to chance to act upon. This scenario, even including the magic they would be controlling, was practically a wet dream come to life.

Knowing that he would have to control when he spilled himself, but recognizing the lack of control he would have, Harry slipped a green leather strap from the side of the altar. It was identical to the one restricting Severus' cock and balls. Applying it to himself was an agony just this side of pleasure. It caused no hesitation in him, however, as every part of him was eager for this.

Stepping forward, he allowed his shins to press against those of the other man. He reached out a hand that was steadier than he expected and ran it firmly along the sparsely haired thigh until he reached his goal. Despite the near silent whimper that encouraged him towards the engorged prick, his hand drifted south. Rolling the lightly furred balls, he ran his thumbnail along the perineum just behind the warm flesh in his hand.

Severus' arch at the sensation was brought short by his restraints and Harry moved his hand from his lover's testicles to explore the presence of the stone protuberance and its juncture with his partner's entrance. As he smoothed fingers over the stretched skin, he could feel the entrance fluttering beneath his hand. With the slightest regret that it could not be him in his lover's ass, pounding them both towards their mutual pleasure, he drew his hand away.

Harry did not imagine the faint whisper of loss at the lack of touch.

Determined now to wield the magics they had called up so easily, Harry climbed the same tilted shelves that had allowed Severus to mount the altar earlier. This time, though, there was no intention to be supine and submissive. He continued to lever himself up, pausing only for a teasing stroke along the reddened cock below him, until he was standing with his feet alongside the Potion's Master's thighs.

Severus looked up the body above him, admiring the stretch of skin and the proud protrusion of cock. Harry did not meet his eyes, but reached above them both, invoking powers beyond those normally used in the castle.

From the mutation of the spell into Parseltongue, it was clear that Harry had made the ritual his own. What Severus could understand of the language at the rate Harry was speaking it, he could hear the changes the younger wizard had made. Harry was acknowledgeably one of the most powerful wizards of his age. As he altered and transmuted the ancient blood magic ritual from a binding of a possession to a sharing of power between equals, Severus finally found himself comfortable with this man he had grown to love.

He strained upwards as best he could as Harry lowered to his knees. With the athletic young man astride him, his prick was most definitely interested in the promise of the proceedings.

Harry continued to chant as he reached down for the vial he had laid to the side earlier. With his left hand, he began to trace symbols onto the chest of the man below him. Severus arched at the faint burn of the activity. The power behind the gestures drew faint bruising to the surface, letting Harry see what he'd accomplished. With his right hand, Harry reached behind himself and began to prepare his own entrance. Even as he gasped in breaths and worked himself to a high point of pleasure, his words never faltered.

The words reached a peak, then suddenly ceased as the younger wizard leaned down and guided the Potion's Master's ready erection into his tight channel. Severus could no longer restrain his reaction, groaning as he was engulfed in firm heat. Harry had closed his eyes and panted as he sank down until his lover was balls deep inside him.

When Harry opened his eyes, leaning slightly to meet the older wizard's gaze, his pupils had bled streaks of black fire to crisscross the green. Severus arched his head to meet the seeking lips of his lover. Locked together, Harry adjusted to the intrusion as he devoured the man beneath him. As he drew back, teeth scraping along the bottom lip he'd possessed, he noted the slashes of green spiraling in the onyx depths meeting his.

The smile on his face was not kind. It was possessive, demanding, and satisfied in a dark way.

"I draw from you. Your magic, your nature are mine to control, mine to possess. Mine."

Harry lifted and began to ride the man beneath him. The sensations within and without were bringing them both higher in a tight spiral of sex and power.

"You draw from me. My magic, my nature are yours to share, yours to own. Yours."

Severus gasped as the younger man sped up. The sigils etched on his skin with intent had faded, only to reappear across the chest of his lover. Harry arched, drawing the prick inside him against his prostate on the downward stroke and screamed at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

Their pace increased, Harry working himself furiously on the cock inside him. The air of the room tightened, the tension rising as their magic filled all available space. As they gasped from breath, it seemed that neither would be able to breathe in the increasingly heavy atmosphere. While their exhalations of pleasure filled their ears, something changed.

Suddenly, they were being ridden / riding the other. Severus was impaled on the altar / impaled on himself. Harry was looking down on his lover / looking up at himself. A sense of vertigo as they were both at once overcame them and Harry began to slump forward, seeking only to ground himself on the panting chest beneath him.

As he leaned, the charmed bands of leather that had contained their straining orgasms disappeared and they came together in a rush. He did not yet realize it, but Severus' need to hold his exhausted partner caused him to wandlessly and wordlessly dissolve the restraints at his wrists. Hands ending in elegant, though potion stained, fingers smoothed and soothed the younger man.

Harry, his face buried against the collarbone of the other man, managed to raise his hand to his lover's face. He did not speak, his lips did not move, but Severus clearly heard his voice.

*Drink of me and be mine.*

It was more command than request and the older wizard felt fangs dropping from behind his customary teeth into readiness. Nature more than knowledge drove his action as he clutched the wrist to his mouth with a hand and bit down.

Harry whimpered at the sudden pain, but found himself newly impaled as the rapidly deflating prick in his ass was brought to full attention by the nature of the beast inside his lover. The magic inside him called for one more action and he nuzzled at the exposed skin before his face.

*As I drink of you and are yours.*

He had not expected the suddenly elongated teeth in his own mouth and managed to slice open the edge of his tongue. But luck and instinct brought Harry to bite into the flesh offered so freely to him. The electric shock of sensation jolted through them both, wringing another sparse orgasm from their tired flesh.

Synchronized, they withdrew their fangs and laved the tender skin. Wounds closed impossibly fast and the oddity of the elongated teeth retracted. With muttered syllables, Harry released Severus from his last restraints and transfigured the altar into a comfortable pile of low bedding and velvety furs. The Potions Master took a deep breath and stretched against the weight of the younger man on top of him as the presence was removed from his body.

Harry stretched as well, not removing himself from the contact of skin, but laying himself out alongside his lover. He had been expecting the question, but when it came in honeyed tones it was softer than expected.

"What have you done?"

He sighed, settling himself more comfortably against the paler flank of the older wizard.

"I didn't make you a slave to me."

There was silence for a time, as they each found peace in the other's arms.

"Do you know how your changes will affect the ritual?"

"And here I didn't think you'd be the chatty type after sex."

"Harry…"

The warning tone brought Harry to consider the results of his spellwork more seriously.

"There was enough of the original binding to give us control. Technically, I made myself one of your clan."

"You made yourself my mate."

"Well, at least they won't be trying to kill me anymore."

"As if I would have allowed them."

"I left the nature accessible in both of us… But it will not control either of us."

Silence again, as Severus considered the ramifications of his lover's actions.

"I would not have allowed you to do this had I known."

"I know."

"As it is done…" His voice tapered off, the Gryffindor once more finding himself in receipt of forgiveness, rather than having to request permission.

"I did it for us."

"Us?"

"I wasn't willing to let you go and I knew that you wouldn't have been happy with such permanent submission to me."

A chuckle echoed beneath Harry's ear. "That is correct."

"Can you be happy as we are?"

"I have never known happiness. I am content."

Harry smiled into the flicking flame-lit warmth of the room. "I'm glad."

"I will have to present you to the clan."

"I know. I'll be fine since you'll be there."

"We will have to register with the Ministry."

"No we won't."

At the inquiring noise from beneath him, Harry continued. "We don't have to because a diagnostic spell wouldn't register us as vampiric. They knew you're the clan elder from blood relation. We don't have to explain why you haven't changed."

"But I have changed. You have changed."

"Not enough to matter."

"There will be rumors… gossip."

"I don't care. I'm not ashamed of you and I'm not afraid of what people say."

"You would publicly acknowledge me?"

"If you want to register with the Ministry, we can register as a bonded couple."

Harry heard the sharp intake of breath and waited, wondering if he'd pushed too far too fast.

"You honor me."

"No, Severus, you've finally given me what I wanted all along."

"And that is?"

"A family."

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