The Burning Pen

TWICE BITTEN
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 3

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 3 ~ Snape Gets an Idea

Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had sifted through his books and found the information he was looking for . . . in a manner of speaking. In fact, he’d found too much information. He had no idea there were so many kinds of vampires or so many methods of operation.

There were vampires that had the appearance of fireflies and preyed on young children, drinking not only blood but also coconut water and palm oil. There were vampires that hid in trees in dense forests that attacked and killed anyone who walked underneath them. There were toothless vampires who took blood through suckers on their fingers and toes. Vampires that looked like walking corpses that were covered in green and white hair with breath that could knock a person dead from twenty paces away . . .

There were an endless amount of the creatures it seemed, all with different names, characteristics and ways of being created.

The Potions master was a brilliant wizard, but there was so much to sort out, so much information to sift through, and even then, he couldn’t be sure that the information was correct simply because he’d proven some accepted beliefs about vampires wrong already.

Firstly, he could imbibe Firewhiskey. Vampires were supposed to only be able to drink blood. Secondly, he conjured a mirror and found he had a solid reflection. Thirdly, he had entered Hogwarts uninvited. Vampires were supposed to be invited by someone in order to enter any populated domain. It might be because he lived there, but he couldn’t be sure.

Damn it. He didn’t know what kind of vampire he was. None of the rules he knew seemed to apply except that he needed blood to survive and had a hunger for it. He didn’t even know how long it would be before he needed more, or if everyone he bit would die. Or exactly the amount he needed.

He sat at the desk, aware that it was daylight now. He was wide awake. This was another theory disproved. He didn’t have to “sleep” during the day.

Snape sighed.

He was going to need help with this from someone who could sort through a plethora of facts and get to the core of the matter in a timely fashion. He could only think of one person.

The wizard scowled and pinched his nose at the very thought of her.

Hermione Granger. The more difficult a project was, the more enthusiastically the witch tackled it. She seemed to take a visceral joy in intellectual challenges that would send an ordinary person’s brain into complete and total meltdown.

Yes. Miss Granger would be of great assistance in this matter. But how to get her to cooperate?

Severus Snape was a Slytherin, and as such basically adhered to the premise that no one did anything for free. There had to be an incentive of some type, a compelling reason to come to another’s aid. At least in his world.

And he was wrong.

Hermione was of such a kind nature that she would have gladly helped him without any reward being offered, just to do it. Actually, now that she knew his role in all things Potter she would be more than happy to help him be restored, feeling it would be the least she could do considering all he suffered over the years to bring Voldemort down.

Unfortunately, this possibility never even crossed the wizard’s mind. He was a man who did everything under duress. He believed Hermione wouldn’t willingly help him unless she too were under duress.

The wizard felt his insides clench as he made his decision what to do to enlist Hermione’s aid. It was something almost as bad as being turned, and definitely had the potential to be even more unpalatable than drinking blood. He was going to go through hell doing this . . . he knew it.

But everything had its price. He could suffer a bit longer.

If he wanted answers, he’d have to.

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Dressed in blue jeans and a scarlet Weasley sweater with a gold “H” on the chest, Harry sat in his room in Gryffindor Tower, listening to the sounds of the castle slowly repairing itself. Voldemort was dead, the danger was over and now he could live a normal life. He didn’t know if he could do it, actually. He was so used to Death hanging over his head. It was a strange feeling to know, to actually know he was safe.

He looked out of the window over the dark grounds. There was an entire world out there he could now move freely through. And a large part of the reason for it was Professor Snape.

Harry sighed and stood up, walking over to the window. He wished he had known all the dark wizard had done for him because of his mother. He wouldn’t have hated him so badly.

He wouldn’t have hated him at all. Maybe they could have even been . . . friends.

Harry let out a little laugh at the ludicrousness of that thought. Friends? That wouldn’t ever have happened in this universe or any other. Professor Snape may have spent his life helping him, but it was clear the wizard despised him. Had he lived, they still wouldn’t have become close. No possible way.

Still, he wished he knew what happened to the Professor’s body. It had disappeared from the Shrieking Shack. Ron said he probably got up and walked away because he was too snarky to die. Hermione believed someone took him, maybe Death Eaters. But no one really knew and everyone was so busy burying their dead and trying to pull their lives together around those empty spaces left behind, Snape wasn’t given much thought.

Harry sighed again. He had so many funerals he had to go to in the coming days. So many people he admired were gone. Tonks. Remus. Fred. And others . . . so many others. Ron was at the Burrow with his family, mourning Fred and Hermione was with her parents in London. They had been so worried about her. Harry decided to stay at the castle. Even though Voldemort was gone and everyone considered him a hero, Harry felt responsible for every death that occurred and believed there had to be some resentment against him from the grieving families. That wasn’t the case, but Harry still thought it was, so stayed away.

He looked out the window again, up toward the stars this time. They were so bright and beautiful. He liked the night. There was something comforting about the dark blanket wrapped around the world. You could hide from anything in the night . . .

Suddenly, a pale face rose before him, startling the young wizard. Harry adjusted his glasses and stared, his mouth dropping open. Quickly, he pulled the window open.

”Professor Snape?” he said, his green eyes wide as he stared at the wizard, who was dangling in mid-air several stories up, his face sober.

”No. Minerva McGonagall,” he snapped at the boy in irritation, “Of course it’s me you dolt. Get out of the way and let me in.”

Harry backed away from the window and Snape drifted in, landing lightly on the floor. Harry didn’t think it strange at all because he knew Snape could fly without a broom. It was how he escaped when he served as Headmaster.

“Professor! You’re alive! I . . . we thought you were dead! What happened?” Harry chattered at him. “How did you survive?”

Snape eyed him distastefully. Good gods, he hated this. He wasn’t sure how this would work either. He had never turned anyone before. When he bit Shufton, he was instinctively aware he could do something to make him continue. Maybe that instinct would kick in again. Well, he wasn’t going to waste time with idle chatter.

”Cast a silencing spell and ward the door,” he hissed at Harry

“Right,” Harry said, figuring the wizard wanted some privacy. “But I’m the only one here in the tower. Everyone else went home until the castle is repaired.”

”Still do as I say,” the wizard said to him.

He was sure Minerva was lurking about. She was Headmistress and certainly wouldn’t leave the castle. Much of the staff was about as well.

Harry felt rather compelled to do what Snape asked, though he didn’t find it strange. Snape had helped him after all. He pulled out his wand, cast a silencing spell and warded the door.

Then he looked at Snape.

“So, how did you survive, Professor? I saw Nagini bite you . . .” he said to the wizard.

Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

”I didn’t,” he purred, then flashed forward.

Harry screamed as the Potions master caught him in an iron grip and sank his fangs into his jugular. He tried to get a bead on him with his wand but became instantly lethargic, the wand clattering to the floor as he slumped. He couldn’t scream anymore, but the pain . . . the pain was terrible.

Snape drank down the sweet blood. Oh, it was good . . . he could easily get addicted if he weren’t careful. But this was necessary. Hermione would help him if only to get her beloved Harry back.

As he drank, he could hear Harry’s heartbeat slowing. He was dying. He had to turn him. He had to.

That thought was enough to trigger what happened next. Snape’s elongated eyeteeth were hollow, the blood drawn through them like twin straws when he fed. On the roof of his mouth, next to the eyeteeth, were two glands. They only appeared when he was in feeding mode. These glands contained the enzyme that turned a human into a vampire. The glands contracted, shooting the enzyme through the hollow teeth and injecting it into Harry body like a double syringe. Immediately, it began to take over his cellular structure, Snape letting the boy gently down to the floor and stepping back.

Harry lay still as a corpse, his face pale and bloodless, his glasses askew. The Potions master bent down and removed them, placing them on the night stand next to the bed. For several minutes Harry didn’t move. The Professor began to worry he had indeed killed the young wizard.

Then, Harry shuddered and his eyes flew open. They were wide and his Adam’s apple worked frantically. Snape watched him with hooded eyes as he suddenly arched upward and let out a tormented scream. Harry began to convulse horribly, flopping about on the floor, screaming as his limbs twisted and untwisted, feeling as if he were being burned alive.

Snape was glad he had the boy cast that Silencing spell. Hell, they would have heard him in Hogsmeade. He watched as Harry underwent the painful transformation. Then he fell still again.

Snape leaned over him, then jerked back as Harry spookily rose from the floor as if stood up by an invisible hand. Harry looked at him, his green eyes black now. It was an improvement as far as the Potions master was concerned. At least Lily’s memory wouldn’t haunt him every time he looked at the young wizard.

Suddenly Harry’s face contorted and he hissed at the Potions master, showing long fangs. Snape hissed back at him, giving his own display and bodily backing him up toward the bed in a show of dominance.

How dare he flash his fangs at him, the insolent little bastard?

Cowed, Harry let his lip drop. But he was hungry.

Snape relaxed, but immediately realized he shouldn’t have when Harry suddenly sprinted toward the open window and leaped out of it!

”Fuck!” Snape hissed, running to the window and looking down, watching Harry fall. Oh gods damn it. The boy was going to get splattered.

Maybe he could use Ron Weasley.

But Harry didn’t splatter. He landed in a crouch, then took off running into the night, searching for his first meal.

”I knew this was going to be trouble,” Snape hissed, launching himself out of the window, his robes billowing about him as he descended quickly. Well, at least he’d learned something new. He didn’t have to use a spell to slow himself when falling. The dark wizard landed in a crouch, then streaked after Harry.

He had to catch the idiot before he killed someone and alerted the wizarding world there were vampires on the loose.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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