The Revenant

*Disclaimer* Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts and anything else you recognize from this story does not belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling. Suing me would be a waste of your time, so please don't. Lye is mine but if you ask real nice I'll let you borrow her.

*Author's Note* I started this story as a one-chapter thing but now it's taken hold and started to get more chapters and even a -gasp- plot! It was orignally called 'Introspection and Urination' but that is now the name of the first chapter, and the story has been renamed 'The Revenant'. I stole this name from a song by the amazingly talented Brody Armstrong of The Distillers, but it's not a song fic. The song simply reminded me of it. I'm gunna post the song next, so if you'd like to read it go ahead but if you don't, go right ahead and read the story. I hope you'll be pleased. By the way, revenant is a term for one who has returned from the dead. This fic was originally posted in chapters at fanfiction.net, and I will continue to update it there as well as here.

'I Am A Revenant' by the Distillers

Another year has passed, and I'm all right I lick the salt from my wounds and run into the night It's unknown why collusion goes on It rapes like betrayal And I'm rotting in the squalor of some

Do you remember the rage? I remember the hate I remember that it rained for years And the blood has left a stain, hey...

You say I got karma to collect I dig my grave and I'm here waiting for some kind of check And if I get one I hold my breath I racked my spine It takes a year of you to warrant a test As the years go by I won't cry It's the year you walked into my life I will despise....

We are the revenant, whoa And we will rise up from the dead We become the living We are back to reclaim our stolen breath

We are the revenant, whoa And we will rise up from the dead We become the living We are back to reclaim our stolen breath

Another year has passed and I'm all right... I like the salt from my wounds and run into the night... Run into the night, run into the night Run into the night...

Chapter 1: Introspection and Urination

Severus Snape glared at the throng of students passing by. Thankfully, they were all preparing to leave. The teary-eyed goodbyes and tight embraces between said throng did nothing for his mood. He was displeased, but then, what was new?

As the last of the students had dwindled their way out the doors, Snape set off for the cold and informal comfort of his dungeons. Walking briskly past the classroom that would be void of irritants for two blessed months, he turned and pointed his wand at an obscure painting and muttered a password. He stalked into the mainroom and collapsed resignedly onto a large armchair. Looking at his surroundings, his glare softened a bit.

Sparsely furnished, his rooms couldn't exactly be called "relaxing" and any interior decorater might suffer heart failure if they were introduced to them. The walls were blank, aside from the ceiling-high bookcases that housed large jars of formaldehyde containing all sorts of creatures and appendages, Erlenmeyer flasks with various colored liquids, random strange brass and glass objects for a number of purposes, and of course, lines of books. A large fireplace took up the majority of one wall, but was empty and looked as though it might not have been used for a while. Snape didn't see any need to warm the outside when the inside couldn't be warmed as well. Two large armchairs, black leather, were set on the edges of a sprawling Oriental rug in black and silver with slight hints of green. Between the chairs was a couch of the same leather and against the wall opposite the fireplace was a large desk and a chair in matching dark wood. A door to the right led to his office, and a door to the right led to his bedroom and bathroom. Not cozy by any means, but to Snape it was home.

The only other object in the room was a low table set near the door to his bedroom. On this table was a basin filled with silver-looking liquid. A pensieve. Snape had no need to look back into what has occured in his past; the memories haunted him often enough. This was mostly for Dumbledore's benefit as he could look into it and see what Snape had discovered about the Dark Lord recently. Snape found this a more pleasant and less harrowing way of relaying the information than telling Dumbledore directly. Not that he would get... emotional.

No, emotions were not something that bothered him often. By all accounts, he was as cold and emotionless as one could get, except perhaps in the case of anger. He had experienced his share of joy, pain, loss, awe, and - yes, it's true - even love. However, he had long since learned to control these and any emotions with the accuracy of a lion tamer with a whip.

Emotions were simply not something that he dealt with.

That is, until there was nothing else to deal with.

Following this vein of thought, Snape rose from his chair and moved to the desk. It was unusually clear. No papers left to grade, no lessons to plan, no potions to be made. He grunted a grunt of clear dissatisfaction. Nothing to take his mind off of...well, his mind. He opened one of many drawers and sifted around in it. A thicker, glossy peice of paper slipped across his fingertips. He withdrew it curiously and immediately regretted it.

Smiling up from the picture was a younger version of himself and a slim woman who appeared to be about twenty years old, with a messy mane of dark brown hair and a wide grin. He glared as he watched the pair in the photo wave at him then turn to share a kiss. Tossing the picture back into the drawer and slamming it shut he returned to the armchair and glared at the empty fireplace.

Despite his best attempts, memories flooded into his head. Lyeta, or Lye as she had preferred to be called was his first - no, he reminded himself - his only girlfriend. He had met her fresh out of Hogwarts when he had been recruited by the death eaters. She didn't work for the ministry, though. She was a bartender that he met when he began frequenting bars, which, he remembered, didn't take long. At first being a DeathEater had been, almost fun, but it had quickly taken it's toll. His relationship with Lye seemed impossible - her spunky nature had attracted his younger self, though now he was sure it would make him ill. For some reason when he related to her that he was a DeathEater she hadn't minded all that much. It didn't make much sense until he found out her little secret. He shuddered and tried to shut his mind off to no avail. Lye was a vampire, not usually the sort of creature that is troubled by wizard's business. He had pushed her away after this discovery, even when she had not pushed him away for what he had chosen to be. He deserted her for what she was born into. Stupid arrogance. The girl had never done anything to hurt him, never even suggested that she wanted to...*eat* him. But what was done was done, and there was no way of going back.

His mind filtered through what had happened shortly after. He had become a slightly less cynical version of himself as he was now, and developed his trademark sneer as he became more involved in his actions as a DeathEater and an alcoholic. The nightmares that would haunt him were subdued by the liquor, and the liquor spawned more nightmares as he did things he never would have done sober while intoxicated.

Then came the horrible night that haunted him even now. He had been summoned, as per usual, and shown up (amazingly) sober. The sight that greeted him he didn't even need to put in the pensieve as it was burned so deep into his memory that he doubted if it would ever fade. Lye, the very girl he had loved and shunned, was held by magic in the middle of a circle of his hooded cohorts in evil. She was naked, obviously in great pain, and Lucius Malfoy was atop her. Snape shuddered involuntarily as the scene came back to him, but convinced himself it was from the outer cold and not the inner.

They had killed her, of course, and he had managed to keep a stony visage through the whole ordeal. It was his fault, he didn't deny that, as it was one of Voldemort's "tests of loyalty" which he so often liked to conduct. The formula was simple, take a loved one and torture them until the follower in question attempted to save them, or kill them. Snape did neither. He simply had watched and the girl had eventually been a victim of the Avada Kedarva curse. He had apparently passed the "test" but since then he had not allowed anyone to get too close - all future tests of loyalty were burdens to himself and himself alone.

Snape didn't think of it as chivalry, he thought of it as the only the way. It was obviously futile to care about anyone when they'd eventually be taken away from him. Still, he felt a slight pressure on his stomach. Bothersome in it's insistance. Was he feeling guilty? Nothing of the sort. Emotions, he restated to himself, were not something he needed. That was not the problem at all.

Snape rose and headed to the door on the right. He just needed to take a piss.

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Chapter 2: Confrontation and Regurgitation

Severus Snape returned from the bathroom relieved, at least physically. He headed to the fireplace planning to make tea, as he had quit consuming alcohol along with his return to Hogwarts. He wouldn't have minded some right now, though. The thought vanished before he got to the fireplace, thanks to a searing pain in his left forearm. He gritted his teeth and grasped his arm, cursing.

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered through his clenched teeth. "So much for -relaxing-."

Grabbing a long hooded cloak (black, of course) he set out through the hallways. Thankfully there was no one but himself to deal with as he continued through the large main doorway and towards the village of Hogsmeade. Upon leaving the grounds of Hogwarts he apparated, not sure to where he was going. He only knew what he'd be greeted with.

He reappeared in a lavish, large room. Malfoy manor, he realized with a sneer. Before him, writhing on the floor was a...well, a human, he assumed though he couldn't be sure. The thing had been stripped of it's skin and mercilessly tortured until it was no longer recognizable in any way.

'Have to check the dental records for that one,' he mused. His thoughts were interrupted by a gratingly oily male voice.

"Ah, Severus, I see you've decided to join us," it was the voice of Lucius Malfoy.

'As if I had a choice,' Snape thought to himself, but replied. "Of course."

"I expect you remember Mr. Lark?," Malfoy continued, motioning to the...thing...on the floor. "Oh, don't be rude, now, say hello to Severus."

Malfoy gave the thing a rather forceful toe to the, well, what would have been stomach. It didn't seem to respond, and Snape imagined that was due to the fact that it was in so much pain it couldn't register more.

"Lark?," he said to Malfoy, concern not evident in his voice. "Pretty risky, isn't it?"

Madrid Lark was an employee of the Ministry, and a rather high-ranking one at that. Besides this, he was a muggle-born wizard. Or had been.

Malfoy laughed. The sound evoked responses in one's body similar to that of listening to fingernails scraped across a chalkboard.

"Risky? Well, maybe, but now that the Dark Lord has returned -," Malfoy's voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. " - nothing can touch us. Nothing. And those who oppose us will find that out in the worst way."

He grinned as if he knew something. Snape didn't like that grin, and he didn't return the gesture. Aside from the fact that Lucius Malfoy was the one who got him into this bloody mess, Snape had plenty of reasons to dislike him. But then, anyone who knew the man for more than five minutes could have come up with at least a hundred reasons.

His revere was broken as the temperature in the room seemed to drop and the throbbing pain in his arm increased.

"Severussss..," a voice behind him hissed. Snape flinched, but not visibly, and slowly turned.

Dark red, cat-like eyes. Spidery-veins running across pale, thin hands. The abscence of any protrusion for a nose. A nauseating smile. Voldemort had returned.

Supressing the bile creeping up his throat, Snape dropped to his knees and kissed the hems of this monster's robes.

"My Lord," he managed. "You have returned, finally. How, I dare not -"

The imposing figure cut him off. "Yessss, I have returned, which you no doubt already knew. And it seems you have as well, though I daresay, you are somewhat tardy in your return."

His statement left the feeling of questions. Questions he wanted answers for. Questions Snape would have to answer. Snape rose.

"My Lord, I couldn't possibly go...everyone around, surely someone would have noticed. You must understand, if I am to continue in my posistion at that school, I can leave no hints as to my alterior motives," Snape covered. Of course he hadn't returned. He was almost as insistent as Fudge that Potter was mistaken when he told the story, but his was feeble hope. He had felt the pain, he knew Voldemort was back. He just didn't want to believe.

"Yessss," hissed the vile creature he was forced to call 'Lord'. "I understand a slightly belated appearance. But, two weeksss...it is rather unimpressive." The monstrosity trailed a long, sickly-looking finger across Snape's cheek and he forced himself not to blanch. "One might suspect that you aren't as loyal as you claim..."

Snape didn't have a chance to respond. The cruciatus curse hit hard, causing pain to every nerve in his body. As he fought not to drop to the floor and writhe as the once-human-Mr. Lark was, he knelt again.

"Loyal," he spoke through gritted teeth now. "To you, always...loyal."

The figure above him grinned that stomach-turning grin and snaked away with a final. "Yesss, we shall see. You may go now."

Severus Snape didn't waste time. Despite the pain still racking his body, he managed to apparate back to whence he came. He found himself outside the grounds of Hogwarts, and promptly dropped to his knees and vomitted. No, this would not be a very relaxing summer...

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Chapter 3: Revelations and Operations

Rising to his full heighth after sucessfully emptying his stomach and waiting for the pain of the Unforgivable to wear off, Severus Snape started off in the direction of the looming castle. The familiar sneer returned to his face as he met the front doors and entered. His hopes of an eventless return to his rooms was dashed with the impressive figure of Albus Dumbledore.

Clad in light blue robes and the ever-present half-moon spectacles, the elder wizard looked down at Snape with a set visage of curosity and grave concern. He was frowning and there was none of the familiar sparkle in his eyes.

"Severus," he said solemnly. "Come into my office."

He turned to the gargoyle and spoke the password (gummy bears) and the younger wizard followed him up the twisting staircase to the warm, welcoming office with it's preening pheonix and dishes of candy. They both seated themselves without words and Snape waited for Dumbledore to open the conversation.

"It is my belief that you have been to see Voldemort," he said simply.

Snape nodded. He really wasn't in the mood for discussion.

"And is it true? He's been restored?"

He sighed. "Yes, it's true. He was at Malfoy's home."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "This is a sad revelation indeed. Several of our students will need to be protected with utmost care."

'Potter,' Snape thought with venom. 'Who care's if I get cursed to hell and back as long as that brat's safe?' He only nodded at Dumbledore's statement, however.

"Was young Mr. Malfoy present when you arrived?," the Headmaster continued, not without surprising Snape. He was worried about Draco?

"Er, no, sir, I didn't see him."

Dumbledore nodded. "I have a proposition for you. I do not deny that it will be dangerous, but it is important."

Snape's silence urged him to go on.

"It has long been my suspicion that Draco wasn't exactly treated well at home," he told Snape. "Surely, he was given anything he ever wanted or needed - except *love* -"

Snape snorted.

"Now, I know how you feel about affection but it is a necessity for a child to develop into a well-adjusted adult. You have noted, surely, as I have that Draco has been hiding behind anger and sarcasm in the past few years...not unlike someone else I know."

The Headmaster's words made Snape's disbelieving smirk dissolve. 'Someone else' was of course Snape himself. Snape's childhood had been...well, less than pleasant. To think that one of his students was subject to the same treatment he had recieved at home was nearly enough to make him shudder.

"What do you want me to do?," Snape croaked out.

"I need you to go to the Malfoy home, and take Draco. He shouldn't be too hard to convince, if what I believe is true."

Snape just nodded again. It was going to be a long night.

"Where should I take the boy?"

Dumbledore paused for thought on this. "Bring him back for the night, but I have a feeling that we're going to need to move him again...do you have anywhere you could think of to take him; a safehouse of sorts?"

Dumbledore knew that Snape rarely left the school, even during the summer breaks. He was right in figuring, however, that Snape had some place of residence outside of Hogwart's.

"My father's house should suffice," Snape replied, spitting the word 'father' out as if it was venomous.

"Good. I'd like you to do this as soon as possible."

Snape rose to head out, but turned back to Dumbledore.

"Sir, I'll point out that this may clue Voldemort of my real loyalties..." he left an unanswered question.

"I had thought of that, Severus. I believe you have done more than enough in your work as a spy for us, just try to make this a discreet operation."

Snape left with a curt nod. 'Excellent,' he thought sarcastically. 'I've done enough as a spy, so he sets me up for certain death. Why, thanks Albus, you're so kind.'

Severus Snape retreated to his dungeons and sparked a fire in his underused fireplace. It was going to be a long night, indeed.

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Flooing into the large livingroom, Severus Snape snuck out of the fireplace to find that the room was empty. He sighed inwardly and wished he would have had more time to think out this task. Dumbledore was right, of course, Draco Malfoy would need to be protected from his father. The boy may be loathe to admit anything was wrong, and Snape didn't want a scene. He thought over possible solutions...knocking the boy out seemed to be most likely, but then he would be even more grudging to Snape whenever he was revived.

'Sticky situation,' he related to himself as he crept stealthily up the stairs. He had been in the manor enough times to know it fairly well and proceeded with extra caution as he snuck past the bedroom of Lucius and Narcissa. The stairs turned to the right and he followed their path to an abrupt halt with a door. He figured there would be plenty of locking charms, so he was suprised when it clicked open after a simple 'Alohamora' muttered under his breath.

The room was breathtaking, dark and expansive. There was a large four-poster bed which was, oddly enough, empty. In addition the room was furnished with a huge oak desk on which lay an assortment of quills, parchment and books. There was a matching bookshelf and an assortment of paintings, as well as a large chest of drawers and a door to a private bathroom. All in all, more comforting than Snape's dungeons. Snape's eyes searched the room and came to rest on a figure staring out a large window at the night sky. He looked anything but comfortable.

Draco Malfoy had shot up like a weed in his fourth year at Hogwarts. He was no longer the scrawny brat he had been when he first arrived. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest and a scowl was imprinted on the chiseled features of his face. The figure had not yet changed out of his robes, though it was well past midnight. Snape took this, and the room, into account before Draco noticed he wasn't alone. The click of the door shutting clued him in.

Draco turned and spotted the shadowy figure. He muttered 'Lumos', pointing his wand and Severus Snape came into view.

"Professor," he stated, not without a slight tone of confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Snape stepped closer and tried to find the least personal way of describing his 'mission'.

"Events have led your Headmaster to believe that is no longer safe for you to remain at home. He's sent me to take you somewhere... safer, in light of these events."

Draco snorted derisively. "Maybe the old fool isn't as blind as I thought."

Snape was surprised at Draco's unsurprise. He didn't seem put off by the idea in the least. As Draco turned from the window and moved closer, Snape was slightly confused.

"So, where are we to go?" the younger man questioned.

"I would, erm, prefer not to relay that information until we reach our destination."

Draco only nodded.

"I suppose we better get on then, before Father wakes up. He sometimes likes to visit the prisoners at night."

'Prisoners?,' Snape thought. He had never been aware of Lucius keeping any prisoners in his home, unless you count his own son and that poor woman Narcissa. He was not aware, either, that Lucius was already awake.

"Yes," he said to Draco. "I suspect we could floo to a safe destination, somewhere neutral and then continue from there."

He waited as Draco packed a few things into a small bag and threw it over his shoulder. He also picked up his broom. Despite the fact that he had started playing Quidditch to piss off the Potter brat even more, he had grown rather fond of the game and found some sort of sanctuary in flying. The two headed for the door.

Sneaking down the stairs, the pair was as quiet as possible. Their ears were open for any hint of noise from the elder Malfoy's bedroom but they still failed to hear a certain elder Malfoy lurking. They reached the fireplace before said Malfoy made his presence known.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Severus," the familiar oily voice drawled.

Snape cringed and turned to face Lucius. But he was surprised to find another face there waiting for him. A face he thought never lay eyes upon again, save for his memories and a single photograph.

Lucius' grin widened. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Draco faltered and fell silent looking back and forth between his father and his professor. He hadn't a clue in the world why Snape looked suddenly so pale, nor why Lucius was holding a certain prisoner with his wand to her neck like a switchblade.

Snape blanched, he couldn't hide it. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind that led to his enivitable decision. Vibrant eyes stared back from the corpse-like face of the girl Lucius was holding. Lucius grinned sickeningly. His wand pointed at her throat. Her eyes pleading. His mind reeling. It happened in a flash. A flash of green light.

"Avada Kedarva!," Snape said, summoning power he didn't even know he had. Lucius Malfoy flew back against the wall as the curse hit him, then slumped to the ground. Draco showed no sign of emotion as his father took a last breath. Snape didn't even look at Lucius. His eyes were transfixed to the girl before him.

"Lye..." he murmured.

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Chapter 4: Restitution and Consumption

"Professor," Draco hissed, staring at the body of his father. "Perhaps we should be moving along."

Severus Snape forced his mind to form logical thought patterns, looking away from the girl.

"Right," he told Draco. "Where do you keep the floo powder?"

Draco moved to a small table beside the elaborate fireplace and returned to Snape's side with a small black box, intricately carved. He opened the lid and offered it to the Potions Master. Snape shook his head.

"You go first. Hogwarts."

The younger man nodded and set the box back in it's place on the table, taking a pinch of the silvery powder that was inside. He stepped to the fireplace and threw the powder in, clearly stating his destination. He then stepped in and promptly vanished, broomstick and all.

Snape turned back to the figure of the girl and took in what he was seeing. Her hair, which had once been long and flowing, was now cut short and sticking out at odd angles. She looked wholy unhealthy, almost dead. 'She is dead, really,' Snape reminded himself. Still, she was thin, paler than pale, her cheeks were sunken in and the only thing that seemed alive about her were her eyes. The dark brown orbs were staring at him with lividity. He made a move to step towards her.

"If you think," her voice cut off his movements, sharp and scathing. "for one second that I'm even halfway considering the possibility of going anywhere with you, you're more twisted and deranged than I thought."

"Lye," he said, resorting to her old nickname in hopes of soothing her. "We can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

She scoffed. "Dangerous? Dangerous, Severus? You seem to forget who you're talking to, and besides - you just effectively slaughtered the only thing dangerous in this house. Unless you count me."

The murderous look hadn't left her eyes, and Snape noticed a hunger mixed in with it. Not, he also noted, a sexual hunger in any way. From the look of her she probably hadn't fed in quite some time and it looked like he was going to be dinner. For some reason, however, she held herself back.

"Look," Lyeta continued in a cold voice. "You go wherever the fuck you want, but count me out. Consider this meeting a warning. If I ever come across you again, you can be sure you'll have bigger problems than a pathetic dark wizard."

Her sneer rivaled Snape's usual one and he was taken aback. In the two years he'd known the girl she never seemed to have a vicious bone in her body. Now, it seemed, even her phalanges could've devoured him whole. This in mind, it would seem that Snape was having a moment of mental retardation as he lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist. Despite her threats, her arms were still bound by magic. She hissed at him as he pinched some floo powder from the box and threw it into the fire.

"Hogwarts," he said as clearly as he could, and stepped into the fire with Lye in tow. He tried to ignore her vehement curses as they swirled through a ring of green flame.

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Snape and prisoner tumbled forward out of the fireplace into his familiar dungeon rooms. Draco was sitting calmly on the black leather couch, with only the slightest hint of confusion crossing his features as his Potions Master rolled onto the rug along with one of his late father's prisoners.

The professor got up and dusted off his deep black cloak, taking it off and placing it over one of the armchairs with a slight nod at Draco, who returned the gesture, seemingly prefering not to speak at the moment. Snape then diverted his attention to the girl on the floor.

She glared up at him, no, both of them with such animosity as Snape had rarely seen directed his way. He wondered idly for a moment if this is how most of his pupils saw himself, and if so, he could understand their fear. His mind quickly slipped back into nostalgia, and he remembered the way she used to look at him. Adoring, caring, loving even. Always that playful glint in her eyes. The person on the floor was not the girl he had fallen in love with by most accounts.

"Excuse me," she interruped his thoughts. Her tone did not suggest she expected to be excused, however. "If you could tear yourself from whatever the hell it is you're musing over, do you think you could get me the fuck off this floor?"

Snape extended a hand without speaking and she just glared more. Was it possible for her to look more hateful, he wondered. Then he realized why she was glaring at him so intently; her arms were still bound. Not trusting her to not attack him just yet, he instead gripped her shoulders and moved her to one of the armchairs. The glare did not cease.

"Where the fuck are we?," she demanded.

"Hogwarts." Her eyes showed no recognition, so he added," School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I work here now."

She laughed. It was a cold, mirthless sound, and Snape was once again reminded of how different she was. Her laugh never sounded like that before.

"You? A teacher?," she stated in disbelief. "I'd hate to be one of your students."

Draco shifted uneasily in his seat at these words.

"Uhm, Professor?," he addressed Snape, a bit more subdued that usual.

"What?," Snape spat at him, sounding harsher than he meant to. The night's events were definately taking a toll on him. Draco almost flinched and Snape almost felt bad.

Draco had a million questions he wanted to ask - Why had Snape killed his father to save this woman? Why did this woman seem to know Snape so well? Why did they see it fit to bring him back to Hogwarts? He didn't voice any of these questions, though. He'd long learned that interrupting a conversation like this one could be...painful.

"I'm rather tired," Draco lied, instead. "Perhaps I could, er, find somewhere to sleep?"

Snape nodded. "Go see the Headmaster first, I'm sure he'd be most interested to see that you've arrived. He will direct you to where you are to stay."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. With a final nod to his professor, he left the room as quick as decency would allow. Both Snape and Lye watched him go. When he was gone, Lye turned back to Snape.

"I see my presumptions about your students wasn't far off," she stated. Snape didn't answer, he was standing above her with his arms crossed over his chest and a bit less than the usual venom in his expression. Lye shifted - sitting on her hands wasn't exactly comfortable.

"Why did you bring me here?," she finally continued after a moment of silence.

"If I had left you at Malfoy's, you would have been killed. The Dark Lord would undoubtedly be made aware of the death of one of his followers."

"At the hands of another one of his followers," she added. "Besides - he already tried that once, remember?"

Snape winced at her first comment. 'Discreet operation, indeed,' he thought. He looked over the vampire in his armchair and, despite his better judgement, he took out his wand and freed her arms. Dying at the hands of her could be no worse than dying at the hands of Voldemort, he figured.

Lyeta flexed her wrists to make sure they were in working order, then looked up at Snape. "What time is it?"

"Two or so, I imagine," he replied.

"Right. I'm out of here in that case."

She rose from the chair but was promptly pushed back into it by Snape. She glared up at him.

"You're not going anywhere. You're in danger."

"Not as much as you, especially if I stay here. Besides, I'm hungry...and you're not exactly an appetising snack," she offered a fake but saccharine-sweet smile. "So if you don't mind..."

She rose again, only to be pushed down again. Despite the fact that he actually -wanted- her to stay there, which he was loath to admit, he could just see the end results of letting her go. Finding McGonnagal, Hagrid, or even Filch for that matter, dead in the hallways and drained of all their blood was not something he looked forward to.

Lye made a sound of clear annoyance. "Look, Severus, if you're keeping me here in some hope of rekindling the burning flame of romance" - she sounded very sarcastic at this point - "I can assure you it's a lost cause. If you're really keeping me here because you think I'm in danger, I can also assure you that I can take care of myself. That...thing...you work for isn't concerned with my kind anyway."

"If I may remind you," Snape replied, ignoring the romance remark. "He seemed rather interested in you before."

"And if *I* may remind *you*, that was your fault in the first fucking place. I don't see how keeping me with you would put me in any less danger than letting me go."

Snape sighed resignedly and lowered himself onto the recently vacated couch. "I can't protect you - that much was already proved. However, this castle is about the only place that is safe from Voldemort."

She smirked. "Oh, I see. I suppose that's why you're here. Not up to facing the Lord you ran from, huh?"

Outraged at her mocking tone, Snape was off the couch again in a second and glaring down at her. "Woman, you have no idea what you're talking about and it would do you good not to try to mettle in my affairs and keep your unruly mouth shut!"

Snape suddenly remembered the only time he'd ever used that much force in speaking to her before. Memories came flooding back of himself yelling at her. 'How could you have kept this from me?,' he was yelling. 'I trusted you, only to find out you're a... a...an overgrown mosquito!'At that time, his voice had made her submit and nearly come to tears, finally choking out that he should 'fuck off and die' before he made his grand exit. He wasn't expecting much better of a response, but he was hoping for some of that submissive nature to return.

Lye just kept smirking. "I suppose I should be running and hiding now, shouldn't I? Well you know something, Severus? Any power you might have had over me you gave up years ago. I'm not scared of you anymore, and furthermore, I don't give a damn what would do me good. Spending nearly eight years in Malfoy's dungeon wasn't exactly good for me, either, you know?"

Nothing doing. She wasn't the least bit humbled by his tone,and he was again suprised with hers. Snape groaned inwardly...eight years?

"I thought you were dead," he sputtered. "I would have had no way, in any case, to -"

She cut him off. "Oh, come off it, already. Even if you had known I was alive, you wouldn't have tried to do shit for me. I saw you at that fucking meeting, standing there all emotionless, watching that bastard rape me. Didn't try to help me then, did you? Weren't quite as fucking chivalrous as you were tonight, huh?"

She was standing now, glaring up at the taller man with malice clearly written in her eyes. It took a lot for Snape not to back down from her peircing gaze, but he didn't. She was right, of course, he hadn't done anything. His 'position' as a DeathEater had prevented him from doing anything, and he was still bitter about her not telling him the whole truth. It was stupid, but he remembered as well that he was not the one who'd been jilted. She had every right to be mad.

Lost in his memories for the upteenth time that night, Snape didn't notice her movement until after the fact. Quick as a flash, her hands had seized his shoulders and he felt razor-sharp fangs cutting into his neck. The pain only lasted a moment, and Snape found that he could not have pushed her away even if he wanted to. The feeling following the pain was relaxing, warming, and almost erotic. He closed his eyes and his brain was blissfully blank as Lye continued to be latched onto his neck and drain the blood from his body.

He was wrong, he realized, when he'd thought that dying at the hands of Voldemort would be anything like dying at the hands of a vampire. He raised his hands and placed them tentatively on her hips, feeling like he might collapse if he didn't have something to hold onto, and rather just wanting to touch her as well.

Snape barely had time to register the fact that he wasn't dead as she pulled away and pushed him roughly to the floor. Still a bit dazed, he looked up at Lye. She had a bit of blood - his blood - on her lips, and she was once again glaring icily at him. He wondered how she could retain that expression after something so intimate had obviously just happened. She shook her head, looking down at him malevolently.

"I fucking hate you."