Nominated for Best Horror Fic in the 2014 SSHG Fanfic Awards.
I own nothing here – it belongs to JKR. I just play.
Challenge: The Unwanted Guest
Characters: SS/HG – with cameo from Lucius Malfoy
Team: Death Eaters
Length: 5 X 100
Rating: Probably NSFW but not too bad
Warning: Dark Smut
The first time, it was a scrabbling outside his door; a mutt looking for scraps. More fool you, Severus thought. He ignored it until he was convinced the animal wouldn’t go away, then opened the door to kick it off his stoop.
She flew into his house like a wraith and stood in the corner, mute eyes reaching for him. She was filthy; hollow-eyed, vile breath, hair wilder than ever.
“What do you want?” was the only thing he could ask.
“Food,” she rasped, and he wondered who on earth this was and what she had done with Hermione Granger.
For a moment, he considered hexing her, but she was on him and his wand flew from his hand with one swipe of her arm. He tried to wrestle her to the ground but she had the strength of a fallen angel. Severus grabbed his silver knife, the one he used for chopping ingredients, but she wrenched it from his hand and with a cry, drew it across his arm.
He hissed in pain and clutched his bleeding wrist, and she froze and stared at him. Her eyes cleared, and she looked at him beseechingly. “Please feed me,” she begged.
Afraid, he hesitated, and she was on him. The cut ran across his Dark Mark; when she slid a hungry tongue over his skin, every nerve ending in his body ignited.
She sucked at the wound ravenously; his hand was in her hair, wanting to push her away and pull her closer. Severus closed his eyes; he was harder than a broomhandle.
Then it happened. His balls tightened; he came with shouting, shuddering, stunning pleasure that curled his toes. He fell whimpering onto the floor, spent, his pants warm and sticky. He had never climaxed with such erotic, addictive intensity.
Severus had a routine; guests came to visit. They stopped. “What’s wrong, Severus?” Lucius asked, shaken at his friend’s gaunt, bloodless frame.
“Nothing; growing old,” he shrugs, wanting to be left alone. It’s only when he’s alone that she visits.
He calls sweetly; he makes kissing noises, like coaxing a beloved pet. She appears from the shadows, eyes on his outstretched hand, watching the knife sliding sensuously across his flesh.
He trembles in anticipation; when she feeds, he always comes. It is more than an ecstasy of the body. His soul orgasms; seared, blasted from darkness into a rapture beyond explanation.
She comes and goes at will, now; Severus works on potions and remaining anonymous. On good days, she remembers who she is and who he is and treats him with love and respect, fattening him up like a prized bull.
On bad days, she is a milking machine, draining him to the point of death, fucking him mercilessly back to life. He doesn’t know which days he enjoys more.
One day she asks if he’d like to become a vampire.
He considers. “Will we still fuck this much?”
“More,” she smiles.
He reaches for the knife. “Do your worst.”