Second Place - Action/Adventure

Severus ran through the club in a desperate search for Harry, Draco fast on his heels. Both of them tore the club apart, but it was no use. Both Harry and Therac were gone.

"Fuck!" Severus swore as he slammed the far wall in the shadowed corridor with a dark leveling curse. "How could I have missed it? How? How the bloody hell did I not see it?" he muttered over and over as he continued to hex the silent wall. Draco stood to the side, leery of Severus's outburst, and cast several distraction charms. Like the lav, this was neither the place nor the time for company.

When Severus finally calmed down Draco cautiously approached. "What now?"

Severus sighed deeply. "I wait for Therac to call for me. He wanted me to . . . taste you before initiating the ceremony."

"Is there any way to stop the ceremony?"

Severus sighed again. "Yes and no."

"Okay, then we do it. What is it? What do we do?"

"WE don't do anything," Severus said pointedly. "Only I can turn this debacle around," he muttered, staring off into space.

Draco huffed in irritation. "Okay. How? What do YOU have to do?"

Severus gave Draco a withering stare. "I have to challenge Therac. The blood ceremony is ritual based. It's performed in front of the entire clan. Therac invites a challenge to his claim. Assuming no one challenges, he performs the ritual and drains Harry of both his blood and magic."

"Okay, so you challenge him. I assume you have to kill him. That won't be a problem, will it?"

"No," Severus said coldly.

"So what IS the problem, then? There's obviously a problem or you wouldn't be acting like this, hexing defenseless walls, and such."

Severus stood silent for the moment. "The problem is, Draco, that if I challenge Therac and if I win, I still have to either perform the ritual or claim Harry in some other way, hence the �no' portion of my �yes and no' answer earlier."

Draco let go the breath he'd been holding. "Well. That does present a problem. What are your options?"

"I can turn him, which I will not do�do not even entertain such folly�or I could make him my blood consort."

Draco laughed darkly. "Harry will love those choices. Kill him. Kill him, but make him the undead. Or, nearly kill him every few days or so at your whim." Draco sobered. "Actually, I'm a little afraid of what he'd choose, if given the chance."

Severus cut his eyes to Draco. "Don't joke about that," he said in a deadly voice.

"Who said I was joking?" Draco muttered. He sighed again. "How long do you think before you're summoned?"

"Soon. He'll want to go forward with the blood ritual tonight."

"What about Striker? Oh, and there's an unconscious and/or dead Muggle in the lav who needs to be dealt with. Don't worry�there's a good �notice me not' charm in place."

Severus rolled his eyes. He wanted to scream. He didn't give two flying fucks about Striker or the Muggle. "You'll have to take care of Striker, Draco. Can you do it?"

"Of course I can," Draco snapped. "Sorry," he said a second later. "This whole thing is just so fucked up."

"Agreed. Let's move to the back where there's less chance of prying eyes," Severus said as he surveyed the goings on in the club. "Besides, I'm hesitant to leave Striker alone for so long, even though he's stupefied. Some of the wait staff are exceedingly nosy," he said with a sneer.

Draco looked up sharply. "You say that like there are other agents here. Non-Ministry ones."

Severus leveled a withering stare at Draco that simply screamed, "Of course there are, you dolt."

Draco huffed at the silent confirmation. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you say something?"

"To avoid this precise reaction. Look at you. You're agitated and nervous. We've had enough to worry about without the added strain of other spies. Come on, let's go," Severus said as he strode from the corridor into the heart of the club.

As they neared the back room, Draco decided to voice his suspicions about Brian. "I think Brian Metts is one of them."

"Yes, so you've intimated," Severus said, still striding forward at a sharp clip.

"Is that why you wanted me to spend so much time with him?"

Severus stopped and leveled yet another withering stare at Draco.

"Fuck you, Severus," Draco muttered, only mildly irritated. "You counted on me seducing him, having sex with him, didn't you? You knew I'd take it as a personal challenge if I knew it would piss you off. You hoped I'd get information from him," Draco said flatly, still hurrying along beside Severus.

They reached the door and Severus turned to Draco. "I hoped you'd take advantage of your considerable charms and talents, yes. But, it was secondary to keeping you out of harm's way. I told you that it was more important for you to shadow Mr. Metts. You just interpreted the importance a bit differently than I did." With that, Severus stepped into the room, leaving the door open for Draco to join him.

"Bastard," Draco muttered under his breath before closing and locking the door behind him.

Miles away, two other figures were entering another room in another place. The chamber was dark, eerie. The severe, gothic arches cast hard shadows across the space, which was only partially illuminated by the dim, flickering torchlight. It was an abandoned church, long forgotten and set for a demolition that would likely never occur. How ironic, Therac thought, that his clan had been meeting on this ground for centuries and that this ceremony would take place now, in this place. Therac looked down at the unconscious boy in his arms. His prize was beautiful beyond compare. Therac almost considered turning him, making him his beloved, his childe. But, the risk was too great. This one, his dark-haired prize, would likely eclipse him in power. Therac could not allow that.

Two figures moved into Therac's line of sight. "Take him, purify him," he said sharply, handing over his prize to two young vampires anxious to please their underlord. As they moved away, Therac began assembling all that he would need for the ceremony.

Harry was floating in a gray, viscous fog. He was aware, but not aware. He could feel, but couldn't give name to what was happening to him. He wanted to struggle, kick away the hands holding him, turn from the fetid breath ghosting over him. But, he found that he could not. He tried to call for Severus, but the gray fog accompanied by the lingering static in his brain prevented him from doing so.

Harry felt himself being jostled. New bodies held him fast. They were moving him somewhere. Thoughts skittered across his consciousness. He wondered if Draco was all right. He thought absently about Beck, wondering if he would kill Metts because Harry had failed him�failed them all. He wondered about Severus. Would he ever see Severus?

Harry was cold, shivering. He had no idea how much time had passed since he was last aware of what was happening to him. When a hand grazed his side, he realized he was naked. Someone had undressed him. Why were they undressing him? He flashed back for a moment to another time when another pair of hands undressed him, but also healed him, protected him, made him feel safe.

Severus found him in the bowels of Riddle Manor two days after Voldemort's defeat. Broken, bloody and bruised, Harry cried bitter tears of shame that this man would find him in such a state. Fully expecting rebuke, Harry was unprepared for Severus Snape to remove his cloak, reverently wrap it around Harry's abused body, carefully cradle him in his arms and take him back to his private chambers where he and Poppy healed him away from prying eyes. Severus was respectful, gentle, and treated Harry as though he deserved tenderness and compassion when Harry knew he was disgusting and sullied. It was all rather bewildering to Harry, his sum total experience with kindness from others was rather small. Severus had even gone so far as to hold him when he'd woken up from strings of nightmares after which he could still feel Dean, Seamus and Neville's hands and bodies touching him, holding him down. Raping him. He'd never suspected that any of them would join Voldemort. But, Voldemort had made promises to them. Including promises that he'd heal Neville's parents. Harry could well understand that level of desperation; but for the grace of Merlin. When Harry vanquished the Dark Lord, the promises remained unfulfilled and the three took it upon themselves to pay back in kind by brutally taking the one pure thing Harry had left, the one thing he had left to give to someone else. Severus had never pushed for details and Harry had never provided them. Though, the fact that the three former Gryffindors turned Death Eaters turned up dead, mangled, and castrated not one hundred meters from Riddle Manor two days after the final battle said all that needed to be said on the subject at the time. After that, Harry saw no reason to pretend he was anything other than what he was, what they'd called him, the words they'd carved into his back. Potions had removed the visible scars, but Harry would always feel them there, lurking just under the surface. He dealt with it by pretending he was someone else. Something else.

The present reasserted itself as fingers removed Harry's piercings with clinical deftness. A cold hand tugged at his necklace, obviously frustrated that it could not be removed. Harry whimpered, he thought, not knowing whether it was audible. A wet cloth began rubbing rhythmically against his skin, cleaning it, he surmised once he smelled the rosemary and sage. He inhaled sharply at the implications of those particular smells�the ritual purification bath, Harry realized. He tried once again to struggle or cry out, only to fall deeper into the cloying fog.

It had been nearly an hour since Severus and Draco had returned to the club. It was a rather surreal scene in which they found themselves. The constant boom of the bass filtered through the walls and rattled the shelves stuffed with tacky bric-a-brac and loose papers. Beck, who was still stupefied on the tatty couch, was splayed in all of his obnoxious glory�the proverbial pink elephant in the room.

"Should we call Simmons?" Draco asked.

"No," Severus immediately barked. "He'll just send Aurors who haven't a clue how to handle a situation like this. We've got to do this on our own."

Draco nodded. "How much longer do you think?"

"I don't know," Severus said tersely. "Soon, I hope," he said in a whisper.

Draco shifted in his seat. "Should we go ahead and take care of Beck, while we're waiting and all?"

Severus looked up. "I don't think that's a good idea. He's stupefied for now. He won't come round on his own for several hours more. I think we would do better to deal with one crisis at a time. Besides, how clearheaded will you be if you're wondering when I'm to be called, hmm?"

"Didn't think about that," Draco said.

They sat silently for a few minutes more. Draco began idly kicking Beck's hand, which was hanging from the side of the couch. He watched it move back and forth, completely at Draco's whim.

"Stop that," Severus said.

Draco gave one more kick before turning his attention elsewhere.

Severus cleared his throat. "Thank you for helping Harry tonight."

Draco shrugged. "He helped me too, you know. He forced me to leave the club tonight because he was afraid for my safety, even though it was obvious he was in no shape to handle this assignment tonight. We protect each other, Severus, we look out for each other. We may be the most fucked up threesome in the history of the Wizarding world, but we protect each other. It's what we do." Draco eyed Severus carefully, "Or we used to, at least."

"I�I can't help but feel that . . . perhaps, it might be better if the three of us did not work together so closely after this."

Draco snorted. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Then again, it's much easier to slink away than deal with your Harry issues."

"Draco I do not wish to argue with you about this. Now is not the time nor the place," Severus snapped.

"When, Severus? When will be the right time?" Draco sighed. "He loves you, you know. He loves you and is afraid that you see him as damaged goods, rotten, spoiled, . . . unworthy."

"That's preposterous! I could never think of him that way!"

"Yes, well your actions of late have not exactly coincided with that sentiment. At least not from Harry's perspective." Draco turned away and laid his head against the wall. "It was a mistake for him to come here. This assignment was a mistake. He never even had a chance."

"I will save him," Severus said, quietly but with dead conviction, "I will protect him."

Draco turned towards Severus slowly, a melancholy half-smile on his face. He nodded. "See that you do," he whispered.

The heavy fog lifted for a moment. Harry realized he was warmer and wrapped in something soft and light. He felt as though he were laying on a slab of jagged rock that had been smoothed over time. He still could not open his eyes or move. The static was still there, along with the fog. He felt a cold, familiar hand lightly run down his side and thigh. Therac. Harry moaned low and turned a fraction�it was all he could accomplish.

Therac laughed at Harry's inability to move away fully. Though, that he was able to move even incrementally proved how much his prize loathed this, loathed him. Such a little fighter this one was. Therac found him so much more pleasing now that he was purified and unadorned. He ran his hand across the silk covered thigh once more, reveling in the perverse thrill as Harry's brows furrowed in distress.

"Yes, my prize, I have you now. I promised you we would meet again. How does it feel to know that you will soon die, hmm? Who will care? Who will notice? No one, I suspect."

Harry moaned again.

"Shush, my prize. I promised that you would beg me for death. I suppose I should keep my word. After all, my word is my bond, my dear Jade. I've promised you such delights, such pain. Shall we begin?"

Without hesitation, Therac leaned over and viciously pierced Harry's throat, suckling violently as Harry twisted in pain and screamed the scream of the damned.

The silence and the waiting became overwhelming. Draco started kicking at Beck's hand again, stopping only at Severus's glare.

"So," Severus began conversationally, "you and Mr. Metts seem to have gotten to know each other very well."

"Brian? Yeah. Hopefully whomever he's working for is someone or something that I can live with." Draco cleared his throat. "I wouldn't mind seeing if this could go somewhere," he whispered.

"Indeed?" Severus asked.

Draco nodded. "I'm tired of this, Severus. Aren't you tired? Pretending all of the time, never having someone or something you can lay claim to as your own? I feel like I've been living other people's lives for so long, that I'm afraid I've forgotten how to live my own. I need that, Severus. I need to live my own life. I used to think I wasn't worthy of it, you know? Like, I had to spend the rest of my life repaying my and my father's debts. That it was the only way I'd ever be �acceptable' in polite Wizarding society. I've pretended that what I do for the Ministry is so important that it justified dropping out of life. I think, though, I've just been hiding. Hiding in plain sight, really; hiding behind my pride, my fear, whatever. Just living some sort of artificial life in hopes that someday I'd fall into a real one, ready to face the real world. I can't explain it, but Brian makes me want to not hide anymore. I'm tired of hiding. Aren't you tired, Severus?"

Severus picked at the invisible lint on his shirt. "I have been tired for a very long time, Draco," he murmured, not looking up. "But, I have been playing parts for so long, I don't think I even know who Severus Snape is. I don't much care to find out, I think."

"But what about Harry? You and Harry have that thing between you, that fire, that understanding. I've seen it. You know it's there, even if both of you have your heads so far stuck up your arses that you can pretend it's not. I don't understand why you, why both of you, won't acknowledge it. Won't embrace it. You could be living, Severus, living your life. Not someone else's. Why won't you? Why won't Harry?"

Severus swallowed thickly and returned to removing invisible lint. "It's about redemption, I guess. What you speak of�how Brian makes you feel�it's redemption that you have with him. Sometimes, Draco, one cannot be redeemed�whether because others refuse to do the redeeming or because one refuses to believe it possible."

Draco began to reply, but was stopped when Severus suddenly lurched forward with a grimace of pain.

"What? What is it? Is he calling? Is he?" Draco asked, frantic, as he leapt to his feet.

Severus pushed him away. "No, he's not," he ground out between breaths. Harry was in agony�Severus could feel it. He could feel the agony of what Therac was doing to him.

"What is it, then?" Draco cried.

"Leave it, Draco."

Draco opened his mouth to say something else but wisely closed it. He sat back down. "It's Harry, isn't it," he said, finally.

Severus sighed and nodded.

Pain like he'd never known flooded his senses. Harry wanted it to stop, now. Therac had been feeding from him intermittently for what felt like eternity. Those sharp, unforgiving fangs tore into him in the same place every single time. Harry's mind, his soul, cried out in protest. He heard Therac chuckle and he screamed with all that was in him for Severus. Outwardly, though, Harry did little more than mew and struggle lightly.

"Don't like that, do you Jade? I suspected as much. I promise you the real thing is far worse. I told you you'd beg me to kill you. And you will."

Therac ran his hand across Harry's jaw, making Harry shift away from him. Therac's mouth set in a firm line. Yes, he'd delighted in his prize's struggle, but the boy remained obstinate. Too obstinate. By this point, he should be turning towards him, begging him with soft whimpers and with fingers reaching out to touch him. Fine, then. Therac would simply call Severus and watch the boy crumble under a double assault.

"I think it's time, don't you?" he growled at Harry as he snatched up a silver disc with runic symbols circling the edge. As he rubbed it, his eyes glazed and he made a series of hissing and clicking sounds as he called for Severus.

Severus hunched over again and swore under his breath.

"What? Is it Harry again? That bastard! What is he doing to him?" Draco said.

"No, Draco. It's not Harry. Therac's calling for me." Severus stood and started walking away before stopping abruptly and turning back. "Draco," he started. He didn't know what else to say.

"Just go, Sev. Save Harry."

Severus nodded grimly. "Be careful. Don't forget I had to give Striker a power boost. He's completely strung out. Keep your wits about you!"

Draco nodded. "I've got it. I can do it�get out of here. I'll join you when I'm done here."

"No, Draco, you can't. The other clansmen would kill you the second you passed over the threshold. You're just going to have to trust that I can do this."

A low growl of displeasure escaped Draco's throat. "You will let me know the second you've taken care of things," he said tightly.

Severus nodded. "I promise. I will not lose him, Draco, not without a fight."



Artificial Life - Chapter 11

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