Scabbers by overlyenthused

“Blood Bonds,” Snape began, resuming his pay attention, Potter tone, “are arrangements between two…of our kind in which blood is shared.” Harry’s eyes widened.

“D’you mean—” he began. Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Yes, Potter,” Snape sighed, “the two Bonded vampires subsist on each other’s blood. Many vampires who desire to rise above their baser instincts have found that Blood Bonds are very successful at combatting their bloodlust.” Harry perked up at this.

“That—that’s good…” Harry said. “Right, Sir? That there’s a way to manage the, er, bloodlust without killing animals or, er, people?” Snape dipped his head slowly, squeezing the knuckles of his steepled hands.

“This would all be much easier to explain if you knew what vam—what you are now, Potter,” Snape sniffed. Harry stiffened at the pitiless jab.

Must he be so—so heartless all the time? Harry lamented to himself. The git! Of course I know what I am now, he keeps pointing it out to me. How could I forget? Why can’t he ever just be helpfu—oh! He is being helpful, he’s just being very snitty about it, isn’t he? Huh.

“You’re right, Sir,” Harry said quietly, sinking back against his chair and rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. “I don’t know anything about being…a vampire. But you must know loads about being one. Would you, er, give me an overview? And tell me more about the potion you invented? Sir?” Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry surreptitiously crossed his fingers under the desk and hoped his Slytherin flattery paid off.

Masterful manipulation, if I do say so myself, Harry commended himself.

“That would be…prudent,” Snape nodded. He cocked his head, considering Harry for a few seconds. Harry quavered but held his gaze. He felt triumphant but was determined not to let the professor see. It seemed Snape found whatever he’d been looking for in Harry’s face, because he nodded again and silently Summoned a small, leather-bound book from his shelves. It gently came to rest on his desk. He tapped his wand to the nondescript cover, and the book flew open to a diagram of a bat.

Snape rolled his shoulders and pushed the book across the desk towards Harry. Harry looked down at it without moving his hands forward to grab it. He’d hoped Snape would give him at least a preliminary explanation to vampirism. He looked back up at Snape expectantly. Snape scowled back at him.

“The vampire has traditionally been considered a Dark creature,” Snape finally said in his customary low growl. Harry grimaced but gestured for Snape to continue.
“Vampires are created—not born—with a bite. A vampire’s bite—whether in human or bat form—releases a powerful toxin into the victim’s bloodstream that causes rapid changes. Typically, the victims are—to put it simply—sucked dry before the changes manifest. However, if the victim survives the blood loss, the toxin initiates transformations—physical, mental, magical. The physical changes are quite certainly the most marked. Besides the overwhelming urge to drink blood and the physical symptoms that accompany bloodlust—stomach aches, headaches, light-headedness—the newly changed vampire’s fangs emerge when he first samples blood and every time he imbibes it thereafter. The vampire fledgling’s skin pales, his metabolism speeds up, and his senses and reflexes are heightened—” Snape broke off his lecture when he noticed Harry’s furrowed brow. Harry blushed in embarrassment under his scrutiny.

“Sorry, Sir,” Harry said helplessly. “I think you lost me at meta—metabolism...” Snape bobbed his head sharply, his curtains of black hair swinging on either side of his face.

“Fine, Potter,” he sighed. “Physically, vampirism makes one stronger, swifter, and more coordinated. It also induces a fairer complexion and—even when the fangs aren’t present—slightly elongates one’s canines. Do you understand so far?” Harry frowned thoughtfully.

I was right! Snape is superhumanly strong. And—and so am I. Or at least I will be. Wicked! he realized.

“I think so, Sir,” Harry answered after a few moments. “Being a vampire makes me thirst for blood and grow fangs. The bite will make me stronger, faster, and…paler?” His sentence trailed off into a question. Snape smirked thinly. Coming from anyone else, it would almost be a smile.

“Just so, Potter,” he said. “The last two physical changes are ones I have studied intensively. The first is perhaps the easier to explain but the harder to comprehend. Vampires can, as you’ve seen, transform into bats. The transformation is second nature to a vampire. It is much like an Animagus form, but it is perhaps easier to control and sustain. A vampire cannot, however, become an Animagus. The bat form is the one and only alternate form.” Harry’s curiosity was once again piqued; he was hanging on Snape’s every word.

“Could you teach me how to transform, Sir?” he asked breathlessly. Snape glared down his nose at Harry.

“I suppose…” he said reluctantly. Harry tried his best not to beam. Snape glowered at him for a moment, as if already envisioning the trouble Harry would cause him as a fledgling vampire.

“The last physical change is not one to be taken lightly,” Snape went on, his voice stern. He Summoned another book from a shelf. As it alighted on the desk in front of Harry, he could see that, unlike the smaller, unmarked tome, this book—or journal, perhaps—had words emblazoned on its front: On Vampirism And Its Quantifiable Impact on Innate Magic. And below the title in a smaller font, Harry read: S. Snape. He glanced quickly up at the professor.

“You—” Harry started.

“Yes, Potter,” Snape said stiffly. “I told you before that I studied vampires for part of my Mastery, did I not?” Harry nodded. Snape tapped his wand against the writing, and it flew open to a page of charts and graphs Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“Vampires—theoretically—do not age,” Snape explained, taking in Harry’s blank look. Harry startled, then gaped at him.

“D’you mean I’m stuck at twelve forever?” Harry asked, his voice rising in panic. “I won’t grow up? I won’t ever die?” The thought greatly disturbed him. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, reached across his desk, and snapped his research journal shut. Harry jumped at the sudden movement.

“I said theoretically, Potter!” he snarled. “Have some sense, boy! I was bitten at sixteen, but do I look like a sixteen-year-old to you?”

“N—no, Sir,” Harry said swiftly. That question he could answer definitively.

A teenaged Severus Snape. Now there’s an absurd notion, Harry thought wryly.

“That’s because I never completed a Blood Bond with Pettigrew or created one with any other vampire,” Snape explained. “Likewise, I assume Pettigrew never entered into a Bond, either. He seems to have aged as well. Without Blood Bonds, vampires will age in outward appearance—skin will wrinkle, hair will grey—but they will retain physical strength and will continue to live on indefinitely, as long as they have adequate blood to feed off of. A vampire is immortal insomuch as one will never simply die of old age, but an Unbonded one is not ageless. Only Blood Bonded vampires appear ageless; they look to be in their twenties or thirties no matter when the Bond was established—they either grow up from childhood to their prime and stay that way or gradually de-age back to their prime and stay that way. It can be dangerous for a vampire to remain Unbonded for more than a century—I’ve heard solitary vampires can become quite unhinged.”

To appear to grow old and age outwardly, but to remain stronger than any man in his prime and never die would be quite strange…and quite terrible, Harry mused, picturing such a juxtaposition. He had many questions, but Snape continued before he could vocalize them.

“With regard to mental changes, vampirism can potentially imbue a heightened intellect,” Snape went on. His gaze dropped to Harry’s, and he sneered.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath for that if I were you, though, Potter,” he said, a tiny gleam of amusement alight in his dark eyes. “Take Pettigrew, for instance…no brains whatsoever, always following your father and Black around, worshipping the ground they walked on…” Harry winced.

“How—how exactly would those mental skills appear, Sir?” Harry asked. Snape scowled in thought.

“Vampirism can manifest as quicker mental reflexes and enhanced neural pathways—I suppose you may find yourself capable to see perfectly without your glasses in a day or two—or as innate talent in the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency,” Snape said.

“What are—” Harry began. Snape held up a hand for silence.

“Those two disciplines are of little consequence to us at the moment,” Snape stopped him. “I assure you that I will test you to gauge your aptitude for those skills at another time.” Harry shrugged his agreement with one shoulder.

Vampire lessons, bat lessons, mind lessons, Harry listed, What’s next? If I need any more of Snape’s help, we’ll be seeing each other a great deal more than either of us would like—which is the bare minimum of Potions class and the Great Hall for meals…and even that’s pushing our limits!

“Vampires who share a Blood Bond can also communicate telepathically,” Snape added. Harry raised his eyebrows, unsure if this trait was beneficial or not.

Snape finished, “As for magical power, it is common for one’s magical core to gain a slight increase in power once the transformation is complete—which, for you, should be in a few days. This power increase may have helped me become proficient in wordless and wandless spellcasting.” Harry brightened considerably at this, but he reflected it would be far too daring to ask Snape to teach him those methods of magical casting along with all the other skills he would have to learn from the man.

All in good time, Harry promised himself. But first, his most pressing curiosity at the moment…
“So—just to be sure that I understand—as vampires, we’re stronger, faster, er, paler, er, kind of smarter—possibly?—we grow fangs, we can turn into bats, we’re hard to kill—or we don’t die of old age or something…er, and we’re more powerful wizards, sometimes?” Harry summed up. Snape sighed and placed the heel of his hand on his forehead as if warding off a migraine, then he gave a slight scoff. From anyone else, it might’ve been considered a chuckle.

“In the most rudimentary sense, Potter, you are correct,” Snape said gruffly. Harry gave him a small smile.

“What about Blood Bonds, Sir? And the potion you made?” Harry urged.

“Well, I’ve already told you the basics of how a Blood Bond is established. It is sealed when the vampires drink each other’s blood and must be renewed about every month. The Blood Bond ties the vampires’ lives together. If one Bonded vampire dies, the other will, too. Once a Blood Bond is forged, it can only be broken with death. However, it may change variations as the vampires settle into their Bond. There are five main variations. Platonic Bonds are one of the weakest—the bonds of mere friends—as are Advisory Bonds—the bonds of mentors and acolytes. Then there are Fraternal Bonds—the bonds of brothers—and Romantic Bonds—the bonds of partners. Those two variations are markedly stronger than the previous two. There are also Paternal Bonds—the most common and perhaps the strongest Bond—of guardians and fledglings. In every Blood Bond, the two vampires mutually benefit. It increases their individual powers by binding and strengthening their magical cores. It even affects their souls—they’re purified and connected to each other irrevocably,” Snape said. He almost sounded wistful. Harry pondered this for a moment.

“But, Sir, er…if they’re so good, why aren’t you in one?” Harry ventured. Snape visibly tensed.

“As you may recall, Potter,” Snape ground out, his jaw clenched, “I invented a potion that divests me of my need to drink human or animal blood. I don’t require a Blood Bond.”

“Oh. Right. So I won’t, either?” Harry clarified, feeling slightly put out.

“I should think not,” Snape said decisively. Harry sighed, accepting this. Sensing Harry’s dissatisfaction, Snape sniffed.

“I can assure you my potion is quite up to the task of keeping you—and the rest of your classmates—alive,” Snape promised.

Alive. Wow. How comforting, Snape, Harry snarked back in his head. He crossed his arms stubbornly across his narrow frame.

Scowling, Snape insisted, “My potion is a derivation of a Pepperup base with elements of Blood Replenishing Potion…and some of my own experimental brews. While it can’t replicate the companionship or the power enhancement of a Blood Bond, it is undoubtedly more preferable to the other unsavory alternatives.” It was Harry’s turn to scowl.

“Well…what’re the side effects? Last year you told us that even the most harmless potions can have unwanted effects when taken on a regular basis,” Harry said shrewdly. Snape let out a growl of frustration, then he snorted derisively, shaking his head.

Ha! I do remember something from his class! I’m not completely hopeless. That’ll teach him, Harry grinned mischievously to himself.

“I’ve observed that my potion has extremely minor, mild side effects,” Snape admitted reluctantly, his scowl deepening. Harry smiled innocently.

“Such as?” he prompted. Snape’s lip curled into a sneer, but he said nothing.

“Well, if I’m going to risk my life—and other students’ lives—on your potion, I should really know what the side effects are, shouldn’t I? Sir?” Harry pressed.

“It slightly stains teeth and it…increases the secretion from sudoriferous glands in the subcutaneous tissue of the scalp and neck,” Snape snarled, his voice even lower than normal.

Harry blinked a few times, trying to process the scientific riffraff Snape had just hurled at him. He adjusted his glasses where they sat on his nose and cocked his head to one side.

“Er…Sir? D’you mean it makes your hair greasy?” he said at last, wrinkling his nose in confusion and amusement. Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously. He didn’t respond directly; he just muttered darkly under his breath. Straining his ears, Harry thought he picked out the words “insolent, dunderheaded fool.” He bit back a giggle.

Why couldn’t he just say it like a normal person? Harry wondered. Is he that self-conscious about his oily hair?

“As utterly tragic as it is that its side effects offend your aesthetic sensibilities,” Snape said aloud, “I must insist you take the potion regularly. I know the headmaster will insist as well. It is unsafe for you to hunt in the forbidden forest, and it is impractical for you to form a Blood Bond.”

“What if I want to form a Blood Bond?” Harry countered.

“You cannot simply form a Blood Bond, Potter,” Snape scoffed. “As it is, you require another vampire who is willing to tie his or her life, magic, and soul to yours for the rest of your existence. Just where do you plan on procuring someone equal to that task? Wherever will you find someone who will throw in his or her lot with the Boy Who Lived—forever?” Harry shrank slightly in his chair, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I—I dunno, Sir,” he answered honestly. “Are there any other vampires here at Hogwarts?”

“Besides the two of us? One other—a first year Ravenclaw girl. Miss Lovegood,” Snape replied. “However, she is already in a Paternal Bond with her father.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
He dropped his hands from the back of his neck to his lap, clenching and unclenching his fists. His brow was furrowed in concentration.

Should I—would he—maybe we—this is bloody impossible! Harry thrashed conflicting thoughts and emotions around each other in his head.

Before he could think better of it, he snapped his head up and stared Snape down. With his deep green eyes scintillating like the Killing Curse behind his glasses, Harry blurted out, “Maybe we could form a Blood Bond.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose practically to his hairline, and his skin’s deathly sallowness approached translucence.
Eyes wide, Snape strangled out, “What did you say, Potter?”