“Potter. Potter. Potter!”

A voice dragged Harry out of his deep slumber. He sat up quickly, blinking away his disorientation. He didn’t recognize the room he was in or the black leather couch he’d been sleeping on. The walls on either side of the couch were completely covered in bookshelves. The wall he was facing from the couch was grey stone, with a minimalist fireplace and a black shag rug over the stone floor. Tucked to one corner was a small breakfast nook that consisted of a chrome table and two matching chairs. Harry turned around completely and took stock of a hallway with three doors along it. The voice had come from behind the middle door.

Where am I? What happened last night? Harry wondered. He caught sight of a blurry shadow moving in his periphery and remembered. Oh! The Whomping Willow—Snape—Scabbers—Sirius—I’m a vampire!

Snape strode over to Harry in his customary black teaching robes. Crossing his arms, Snape directed, “Up, Potter. You mustn’t be late to your first morning of classes.”

Harry groaned, “I dunno—I feel sort of…funny.” The fire in his throat and the sickly feeling in his head and stomach were back. Snape pursed his lips. He pulled a vial of his Bloodlust Suppressant from his robes and passed it to Harry, who accepted it with a shaky hand.

“Perhaps it’s time for your next feeding,” Snape said. When Harry hesitated, he hissed, “Drink it, Potter. I won’t have you endangering yourself or your fellow students. You must be fully sated before you leave my quarters.”

Harry sighed, remembering the uncomfortable feeling of his fangs. He uncapped the potion and held it to his lips unsteadily. He shuddered when the first drops hit his tongue and his fangs lengthened. Snape watched him for a few moments to ensure he was drinking it, then called for a house-elf.

“Batty.”

When the small creature appeared with a pop in front of the professor, Harry recoiled. Snape raised an eyebrow, then turned back to address the elf.

“Mr. Potter will be staying here for a few weeks, so I’d like you to bring down his possessions and leave them here, please,” Snape instructed.

“Yes, Professor Snape, sir,” the elf agreed. She flashed a smile at Harry and disappeared with another pop.

“Wa—was that a house-elf, sir?” Harry asked, handing him the empty vial. The potion had sated his bloodlust, but he still felt funny. Tucking the vial back into his robes, Snape inclined his chin in a nod.

He explained, “Hogwarts is home to the most house-elves in magical Great Britain. You’ve met one before?”

“Er—sort of. Not one from Hogwarts, though. Y’see, Sir, this summer, one came to my house on my birthday. He told me his name was Dobby and that I wasn’t to return to Hogwarts this year because someone was planning something bad,” Harry said in a rush.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Dobby?”

“Yeah—er, yes, Sir. He was sort of crazy. Turns out he’d stopped my friends’ letters from getting to me, and then he got me in trouble with my uncle for using magic to drop a cake on his client’s wife’s head. I got a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office or something. And whenever he said something bad about his family or whatever, he tried to hit himself. It was all very…weird,” Harry summarized with a shrug. He clutched his stomach, feeling queasy. He was beginning to think Snape’s potion didn’t agree with him, vampire or not.

Snape stared at him, nonplussed. He started, “I think—”

He was interrupted by Harry’s retching. Leaning over the arm of the couch, Harry vomited the Bloodlust Suppressant onto the stone floor. Snape curled his lips in distaste. With a wave of his wand, he vanished the mess. Harry was still coughing up vomit. The fire was back and raging in his throat. Snape gingerly leaned over and patted him on the back, looking like he’d rather do anything else. Catching sight of his martyred expression, Harry thought, I’d be laughing right now if I wasn’t so busy throwing up.

In the midst of this chaos, Batty reappeared with Harry’s trunk. Her humongous eyes blinked owlishly at the scene she saw before her.

“Mr. Potter’s things, Professor Snape, sir,” Batty announced timidly. Snape glanced over at the elf distractedly.

“Thank you. That will be all, Batty,” he dismissed her with a wave. Batty bowed hastily and left. As his coughing sputtered out, Harry caught his breath.

“Batty?” he queried, his voice rough. Snape sneered, vanishing the last of the vomit and Summoning a glass of water from one of the other rooms. Harry drank gratefully. Unfortunately, however, the water did nothing to quench the burning in his throat that had resurfaced after he vomited.

“The Headmaster has a rather irritating sense of humor. Batty is the house-elf assigned to my quarters. All the staff are assigned one,” he elaborated.

“Oh,” Harry tried to smother a giggle. “How…fitting.” He pulled a fresh set of clothes from his trunk.

“Yes, the Headmaster certainly seems to think so,” Snape said wryly. With a flick of his wand, one of the doors in the hall opened. Harry could see it was a loo and muttered his thanks.

When he reemerged, Snape was transfiguring the couch into a sleeping cot. Catching Harry’s eyes, he said, “House-elf humor aside, Potter, do you have any allergies? I believe something in my potion doesn’t agree with you. Two doses in twelve hours apparently overwhelm your digestive system.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. Really? Gee, thanks. I couldn’t tell, he thought rebelliously. Snape glowered at him.

Aloud, Harry answered, “I dunno, Sir. I don’t think so.” Snape frowned in thought. He brandished his wand and waved it over Harry a few times. His frown deepened into a scowl.

“What is it? Sir?” Harry asked nervously.

Snape sighed, “Nothing can ever be straightforward with you, Potter, can it?” He stalked over to a bookshelf and began rifling through the thick tomes.

“’Fraid not, Sir,” Harry smiled wanly. He stood up shakily and scrubbed a hand through his perpetually-messy hair. Snape found the book he’d been looking for and perused it, pacing back and forth behind the couch.

He’s so unnerving, Harry thought, watching Snape read and pace at the same time. Abruptly, he stopped pacing. Thrusting the book over the couch towards Harry, he jabbed his pointer finger at an entry. Harry squinted.

Where’ve my glasses got to? Harry griped to himself. I don’t remember taking them off last night. When he realized Harry wasn’t reading the text, Snape scoffed and pulled the tome back.

“Evidently, your body disagrees with the mandrake root present in the Pepperup component of the Suppressant potion,” Snape observed, looking pointedly over the top of his book at Harry. “If I recall correctly, Mandrakes are a part of the second year Herbology curriculum.”

“Oh. Will I be able to participate in the Herbology lesson, then?” Harry wondered. Snape closed the book with a snap and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I am more concerned with the fact that you are not safe around others because you can’t stomach my potion, Mr. Potter,” Snape sighed. “I cannot allow you to attend classes—or even leave my quarters—until we find a way to satiate your bloodlust.” Snape looked decidedly unhappy about this prospect.

“’M sorry, Sir,” Harry offered with a shrug. Snape cast a glance at a clock on the mantle of the fireplace and growled in frustration.

“My first class is in half an hour, Potter! What am I supposed to do with you?” he snarled.

“Er,” Harry began, “could I maybe drink animal blood?” Snape’s upper lip curled.

“I had been, perhaps shortsightedly, trying to save you from having to resort to that. Trust me when I say it is rather unpleasant to feed from animals,” he told Harry. Recalling that Snape himself had subsisted on animal blood until he’d developed the Blood Suppressant potion, Harry winced in sympathy. His thoughts drifted back to their conversation the night before.

Maybe there’s another option, Harry supposed. A mischievous smile crept onto his face.

“Well, Sir,” he said. Snape turned his full attention on Harry, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. “There’s always the possibility of a Blood Bond, yeah?” Snape stiffened, fixing Harry with a glare.

“Come, Potter. We’ll go ask Hagrid if he can spare a chicken or two,” he ordered. Harry paled as he watched Snape sweep out the door. Grumbling to himself about stuffy old vampires who were too menacing for their own good, Harry trailed along behind him.

“I heard that, Potter,” Snape called. “I could always ask Hagrid for crows instead of chickens.” Harry held back a squeak of indignation and stuck his tongue out behind Snape. Together, they strode out of the dungeons and towards the castle’s front entrance. Not many people were in the corridors yet; Harry assumed most students were still in the Great Hall having breakfast.Harry noticed it was less taxing for him to keep up with Snape’s fast clip. Clearly the vampire’s physical traits were manifesting.

Can vampires eat real food, too? Harry pondered, his stomach rumbling. He tried to remember if he’d ever seen Snape eat something. Surely, he had.

An older Slytherin boy brushed past Harry on his way back to the dungeons. Harry caught a whiff of something intoxicating and jolted with a small gasp. Snape whirled around and grabbed Harry by the collar. “Control yourself, Potter,” he hissed in a harsh whisper.

“Do all humans smell that good?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. Snape’s mouth quirked upwards in the semblance of a smile.

“Most, yes,” he replied. Harry cocked his head.

“What about other vampires?” he questioned. Snape raised an eyebrow. Slowly, he removed his fist from Harry’s robes and held the soft underside of his wrist in front of Harry’s face. Harry cautiously inhaled.

“Oh. Oh. You smell…right,” he said. Seeing Snape’s eyes narrow in confusion, Harry elaborated, “Humans smell good, yeah, but really sweet. Too sweet, I think. Almost sickly-sweet. But you smell…familiar. Comforting.” He sniffed again. “Bittersweet, like dark chocolate.” Snape scoffed quietly, retracting his arm. Without another word, he resumed his purposeful stride.

When they reached the castle’s main doors, Harry hesitated. He really didn’t want to drink chicken blood. Gathering his nerve, he asked, “Er—Professor?”

“What now, Potter?” Snape said. Harry took a deep breath.

“Well Sir, I can’t help but wondering—Why don’t you want to form a blood bond? We could have a weak one, er, an Advisory Bond?” he stuttered. Snape folded his arms across his chest and regarded Harry coldly.

“I believe I already told you, Potter: I don’t need a Blood Bond. I have the Bloodlust Suppressant potion, and I, unlike you, am not allergic to mandrake root,” he said. Harry sighed dejectedly. “Come now. I’ll hear no more of this,” Snape ordered.

The vampires walked across the grounds to Hagrid’s hut. When a breeze picked up, Harry wrinkled his nose.

“Yuck! Is that what animal blood smells like?” he griped. Snape narrowed his eyes.

“I can always find you some crows—” he threatened.

“Ugh, no!” Harry moaned, gagging on the stench as he neared the pens. Snape smirked.

“Suit yourself, Potter,” he said smugly. Hagrid emerged from his hut with a wave to Harry. Two dogs were frolicking about behind him on the gravel path. Harry recognized Fang straight away and squinted at the other black dog.

The other dog caught sight of Harry and bounded toward him, his tail wagging ecstatically. “Sirius!” Harry gasped. He ran to meet his godfather on the path. Mid-leap, Sirius left his dog form. Fang let out a bark of surprise, startling the man. Sirius faltered and landed awkwardly on the gravel. Laughing at himself, he stood and dusted off, holding his arms open in welcome for Harry. Harry grinned and met his godfather in a hug. Suddenly, he froze in Sirius’s arms. The cloyingly sweet smell of human blood overpowered his nose. All Harry could focus on was the burning in his throat. His breath was coming in heavy pants.

From the other end of the pens where Harry had left him, Snape snarled, “Black! Extricate yourself from Potter! Back away. Slowly.” Harry fought with himself for control. He let Sirius walk backwards, out of his grasp. Then, he caught sight of the shallow cuts on his godfather’s hand from the abrasive gravel. He saw the blood pooling in the lines of his palms. Harry didn’t think. He lunged.

“Potter, no!” Snape growled. In a flash, he was at Harry’s side. He wrapped his arms around the boy and held him. Harry writhed and struggled in Snape’s steel grip, flailing his limbs about ferally. He wailed in frustration. Sirius started toward the vampires worriedly. “Stop, Black!” Snape said. Sensing an opportunity, Harry lashed out at Sirius and caught his outstretched arm in a claw-like grip before Sirius could wrench it away. Hagrid advanced on the tussle and managed to wrest Sirius away from Harry before the young vampire could feed. Sirius sighed in relief, sagging against Hagrid wearily.

Harry was still fighting like a demon. “Potter is in a feeding frenzy,” Snape ground out, wincing slightly at a sharp kick to his shin. Hagrid’s eyes widened.

“I’ve on’y got four hens, Professor. An’ I don’ fancy feedin’ a thestral ‘r a unicorn to Harry, neither,” he fretted. Snape sighed heavily, then winced again as one of Harry’s pointy elbows struck under his ribs.

“Enough, Potter!” he said, his voice dangerously low. He clamped Harry to his side with one arm, then set about undoing the buttons of his opposite sleeve as Harry thrashed around in his grasp. He thrust his bare wrist under Harry’s nose. “Drink.”

Harry hungrily snatched the proffered forearm and sank his lengthened fangs into the pale skin, latching onto the blue veins that ran underneath. He drank for minutes, unconscious of anything but the bittersweet taste of blood running along his tongue and quenching the fire in his throat. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, Harry regained awareness of his surroundings. His head stopped pounding and his stomach settled. With a few last pulls on the veins, Harry relinquished Snape’s arm. He licked a trickle of blood off and watched as the incisions closed. “Er, sorry,” he said, looking down at the ground. Behind him, Snape started to sway slightly. Harry turned around just as the older vampire collapsed. “Oh no! Professor, what can I do?” he asked.

“You…get…your wish. Need to…complete…the Bond,” Snape panted. Harry’s eyes widened.

Oh, right, of course! he thought frantically. He fell to his knees beside Snape and offered his arm.

“Come on, Professor! Here!” he encouraged. Snape’s eyes fluttered closed. “No, no, no. Hang on, Snape!” Harry urged.