Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/7885984. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Fandom: Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling Relationship: Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Albus_Dumbledore/Other(s) Character: Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy, Hermione_Granger, Other_- Character Additional Tags: Alternate_Universe, First_Time, Drama, Romance, Mpreg, Unusual_Sexual Situation Collections: Ink_Stained_Fingers Stats: Published: 2004-02-14 Words: 2086 ****** Blood_Fire_Magick part 4 ****** by Byrdie Summary Snape’s in heat and Harry’s on his tail. All hands clear the decks! Notes This story was originally archived at Ink_Stained_Fingers, which was created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact me using the e-mail address at the Ink_Stained_Fingers_collection profile. Author's notes: Yes, I’m back. Thanks ever so much for your kind remarks and commentary on this fic. Hopefully it won’t take so long to finish now that RL’s a bit less hectic. Blood_Fire_Magick part 4 Seven times the liquid had been distilled, now it was ready for the final ingredient. Severus pricked his finger and held it over the steaming cauldron. Drop, drop, drop. Stir clockwise three times, then widdershins nine. Slow, even strokes -- too rapid stirring caused many a potion to break, something he had spent nearly half his life trying, with varying degrees of success, to pound into empty little heads. There! The perfect shade of amber. Cool, bottle and seal, turning it upside down to allow any remaining impurities (unlikely, but Snape wasn't taking chances) to settle in the cork. Archimedes, his owl, would deliver it first thing in the morning; the elixir worked best when taken before meals. Speaking of meals, he'd missed his supper now as well as his dinner. Oh, well, he wasn't hungry anyway. For some odd reason, his favorite calf's blood no longer appealed. Maybe he ought to try goat tomorrow; variety couldn't hurt. What he wanted, craved even, was a nice, cool dip. In the lake, where even the giant squid kept its distance now that it knew exactly what he was. He'd been working all day and he really needed to relax. Potion brewing was hot, dirty, sweaty, sticky business. A moonlight swim, a long, leisurely flight now that he could stretch his wings, then home again and off to bed with one Severus Allanon Snape. Where a certain little green-eyed succubus would come lay with him in his dreams. Soon, very soon, he hoped, those dreams would be real. He was tired of waking up with empty arms and a nameless yearning in his soul. # Harry's new look made him want to strangle someone. Preferably Draco, after all the whole animagus idea was his. Harry had gone along, thinking what the heck, it just might give him the edge he needed. But..."Red and *yellow*?" he wailed ...er, hissed. SSSimoniusss carefully looked him over. Perfect. Even he wouldn't know it was really a two-legger if he hadn't seen Harry change. Then again, his friend *was* the Heir of Slytherin. "SSSo what'sss wrong with that? All blood pythonsss are red and yellow. You look handsssome." "I look like a dork. A Gryffindork." He scowled. "Dunno why I'm wasting my time, this is never going to work." "You want to mate, yesss?" Harry nodded."SSSeverusss wantsss to mate, too. SSSoon, I can sssmell it. You are young and clever and ssstrong, Little SSSerpent. Why ssshould he not be yoursss?" # Petunia Dursley might be a very happily married woman but she still subscribed to Witch Weekly. For the articles, she claimed, blushing whenever this or that girl friend teased. Besides, if Vernon could have a Bikini-of- the- Month calendar from that Muggle magazine he always had his nose buried in ... sports indeed! How convenient, they'd spelled it to open the centerfold first. Last issue, a Muggleborn rock singer was Dream Wizard of the Week. Not bad, definitely what all the younger witches called drool-worthy, but it would be so nice to see a more ...mature... figure every now and again. Preferably somebody with a name that didn't sound like it couldn't be said in decent company. Oh. My. Yai-ai-ai.... "THE SLYTHERIN SEX GOD BARES ALL" read the caption. Below, in all his nude, wet glory and covering up his naughty bits with a wingtip (all the while scowling and flinging fireballs at the camera -- they must have had another hidden close by) was her old schoolmate, Severus Snape. All poor Petunia could do was stare. And drool. And conjure up a great big fan and a bucket of ice water to cool herself off before she spontaneously combusted. *This* was the man who wanted to Court her nephew? This total paragon of magical masculine magnificence?!! "Harry Potter," she said, her womanly juices slicking her panties -- hey, she was married, not dead! -- "you are one lucky son-of-a-witch!" # A brawl, three hex fights, and a challenge to an illegal duel. All before breakfast. And all over her arch rival, Snape. Minerva McGonagall grimaced as if she'd finally found that one disgusting flavour even Botts wouldn't put in their beans. Where was Albus and why on earth was he permitting this -- this unseemly spectacle? Goodness gracious, was she the only one around here who *hadn't* gone insane? Honestly, just because he looked like...and smelled like .... Oh Blessed Bast! All of a sudden she wanted to pounce. Roll and purr and beg him to tickle her fuzzy tummy and rub that special spot behind her right ear. It was even worse than the time that prankster, Black, was in fifth year and decided to put some extra greens in her salad at the Sorting Feast. Only the catnip had never smelled half as good. # Harry was listless, irritable and terminally horny. What else is new, he thought, grabbing his wand and casting a quick cleaning spell on himself and his sticky bed sheets. Herbology exam. Bloody hell, he'd overslept! No time now to grab a bite, better hurry or he'd really be late. # Other than the usual childhood ailments, like zebra pox and rainbow mumps, Severus Snape had never been sick a day in his life. But now there was something definitely wrong -- why else would he wake up covered in sweat, freezing one minute, frying the next and his stomach all out of sorts? He felt so awful he took a double dose of Pepper-Up potion, but it might as well have been plain water for all the good it did. In fact, it might have made him worse; now he could hardly bear the touch of even the softest robes upon his fevered flesh. His thoughts were getting more chaotic by the minute - - absolutely horrifying to someone who prized quick-wittedness and clarity of mind -- and although the thought of eating nauseated him, he was absolutely ravenous. But not for food. He wanted blood. And not out of a bottle that had been charmed to retain freshness, either. Bottled blood never did taste right -- not that anybody else would think about how the stuff tasted. After all, they only kept it on  hand for use in potions and as fertilizer for the more exotic of Professor Sprout's plants. No, what he needed right now was to sink his fangs into warm, living flesh and feast. His whole body ached with the urge to hunt and feed. Gone was the urbane Hogwarts teacher, Severus Snape. In his place now stood a predator, one whose great and terrible hunger would no longer be denied. # Twenty minutes into the exam, Harry dropped his quill. Ink splattered all over the parchment, blots obscuring what few answers he had managed to write. For some reason (at first he put it down to skipping breakfast) he just couldn't concentrate, no matter how hard he tried. His mind kept wandering in all directions and he really, *really* didn't feel well. All hot and sweaty like he was getting the flu maybe -- but he'd had his shots, so that couldn't be it. Besides, flu wouldn't make him suddenly start craving... Blood?! # Severus drained yet a fourth bovine, this one a fully- grown bull, but though the blood was fresh and hot and *so* delicious, it was only temporary satisfaction. What would it take to sate him? Would he ever know anything other than this horrible ...emptiness... within? Big green eyes dancing with mischief, soft lips pressed against his, gentle whispers and tender caresses -- dream or memory? Then he recalled. A boy. *The* boy, the one with the helter-skelter hair, a zigzag scar on his forehead, and that oh-so-tantalizing scent. Harry. The very thought of his sweet, warm innocent flesh made Severus moan. Heat and hunger flared again, only now the fire had spread. Now it was in his loins. His sex emerged from its sheath, hard and moist and throbbing. He tried to ease it first by tearing away the confining cloth, but that didn't help so he rubbed it as he had once seen a human male do. Oh yes, that *did* feel good! But the more he stroked, the harder and slicker it grew, until it stood up, flushed and leaking copious amounts of pre-come, against his belly. His balls were heavy and aching and when he reached behind them, his virgin center was wide and wet and quivering with the need to be filled and taken. The Verpyre hissed, eyes ablaze. Taken?! He was *nobody's* property, least of all some pathetic little mortal's! Claimed yes, there was honour in that. Only a Mate could rightfully claim. And be claimed in equal turn, so that the two were truly one. First, though, that Mate must prove worthy, instinct and evolution demanded no less. Severus unfurled his great ebony wings and with a mighty leap, launched himself skyward. # Fuck! Harry yowled and came, right in the middle of the classroom. What in Hades' holy name was going on?! One minute he was trying to write, while fighting off the urge to bite down on something -- anything! -- and draw blood; the next he'd gone from somewhat antsy to fully erect and jisming all over himself. Wouldn't know but he'd been having one of those blue dreams again, or a good hard wank. It even *felt* like he was wanking. Harry blinked. Felt like? He shook his head. That couldn't be right. Unless..."Severus!" he shouted and leapt from his seat. Ignoring the uproar behind him (not all that difficult, given his condition) Harry ran right out the door, tearing his robes open and flinging them off. Across the green he raced to the Quidditch pitch, where somebody -- Draco or Dudley? -- shoved a broom at him and he grabbed it and mounted. Clumsily, because his knees were wobbly and his heart was pounding and his prick was still rock hard, even after blowing its load. Someone else yelled. "It's Snape!" And he was up, up, and away! # Word spread like wildfire. Snape had risen and Harry Potter was riding to mate with him. There was a mad scramble for brooms, winged horses and magic carpets with Ministry licence plates. Some riders had caught a glimpse of Slytherin's Heir as he flew by and followed his example by going sky clad, with charms to protect (and in some cases enhance) their what-nots. The rest wore robes, though without underwear so as not to impede access. Most of them were male but all were healthy, hot-blooded specimens. Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Cho Chang and a pair of twins everybody kept confusing were among the Hogwarts female contingent. With a chorus of lusty yells and ribald cheers the pack took flight. # Dudley Dursley was all but hopeless on a broom; even the extra lessons that Professor Wood had so generously offered to students taking part in the mating flight hadn't improved his skills much beyond the point where he wouldn't fall off and break his neck. He was perhaps the only Slytherin in all Hogwarts history to be turned down as a second stringer by the Hufflepuff Quidditich team. Everybody knew he hadn't a sportsman-like bone in his body. Thus it was a considerable source of amusement, especially to the Gryffindors, to see him mounted on a Firebolt in pursuit of Severus Snape. He didn't want the Verpyre -- though his hormones kept insisting otherwise so he'd had to use an extra strength chastity charm prior to take-off -- but he did want to help Harry win him. Which was why he was out here making a fool of himself for the whole wide wizarding world to see. Draco's plan called for distraction, depended on it, in fact. Dudley would fly the lower levels and use every common nuisance spell and jinx he could think of to cull the competition. Attrition by annoyance, the blond had called it during one of their late-night strategy sessions. An approved Slytherin tactic, old Salazar would be proud. Hermione and Draco would deal with the better fliers, harassing them so they lagged even farther behind where Dudley could pick them off and intercepting any curses that might be aimed Harry's way. Cheerfully returning them three- fold to their senders -- the only right and proper thing to do with hexes! That would leave Harry free to concentrate on catching the Sni-- er, Professor Snape. All in all, it was a very good plan. Even Dudley couldn't find fault with it. Unfortunately, it didn't cover what to do with a dragon. *** TBC Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!