This place is a prison
And these people aren't your friends
It was their bar, and his end.
(Finally.)
Walking into that kind of establishment was his last plan. No one would save him in there---there were no nurses, no girlfriends, no neighbours inside. There were only bloodsuckers, only those who wanted to bleed him dry.
Even though it was their bar, he knew it wasn't them anymore. All the books told him so.
(When the blood goes, the soul goes.)
He put a cold hand on the cold metal knob of the solid red door, and he turned and pushed. The hinges creaked---sounding how his tired body felt. And then a warmth fused through him; the air felt spicy, hot, pleasurable. He sighed and unzipped his jacket but kept his scarf firmly wrapped around his neck.
(Not yet.)
He saw them in a dark booth, pressed against each other in some sort of embrace. They looked so much like they used to---apart from the appearance that they were sculpted from some sort of shimmering marble. Her cheeks were blushing and her lips were swollen and plump; her lover flashed his fangs discretely and dragged them across her lips before he kissed her.
(Not yet.)
Harry settled down at the bar and asked the figure there for a drink. The vampire winked and served him something else.
Inhaling thrills through $20 bills
And the tumblers are drained and then flooded again
And again
Severus brushed his arm possessively down Hermione's back and then let his fingers curl around her hip. Hermione shuddered and leaned against him.
The boy man was busy inhaling a crystalline powder someone had given him. It made his eyes wide, dark, and glassy; it made his pulse race below the surface of his skin; it made Severus want to slow the beat to a lazy rhythm, until it couldn't spill down his throat any more.
(How long has he been so miserable?)
Hermione tried to talk to him, but Harry ignored it.
(He had been that miserable once, and she had come to save him. She swooped in, and asked him if he wanted to be saved, if he would want to see the world in a completely different light---free from fear, free from all of the wizarding world's restraints...)
Severus put his hand on Harry's shoulder.
(She had settled into his lap before he could protest, and she explained everything to him. She wanted him. She touched him in ways he had craved for years. She was still as smart and as warm as she had been before the change---but physically, she was chilled to the touch, and harder than he expected a young woman to be.)
He didn't say anything except for 'Potter.' There was nothing to explain; everything unspoken was the reason for that meeting. He understood the emptiness that brought him to that point---it was the same emptiness that brought Hermione to him.
He had always wanted the boy---the student, the wizard who defeated the Dark Lord---but he refrained from acting upon his desires. He could restrain himself for a few more minutes, before seeing if he would want this man.
(She took his flask out of his hand and dropped it onto the ground. Blood would be more intoxicating, she assured him. Had he known that alcohol would never affect him again, he wished she had let him have his last human indulgence.)
Severus sat on a barstool and watched the Boy Who Lived finish his sparkling powder.
(The night is long.)
Ther're guards at the on ramps armed to the teeth
And you may case the grounds from the cascades to puget sound,
But you are not permitted to leave
He compared Snape's Severus' nipple with Hermione's; Severus' mouth with Hermione's mouth, and then with his own.
(Cold skin, hard skin; sharp teeth, sharper teeth, dull teeth.)
He travelled down Hermione's body with his lips and hands, half-wondering if he could warm her up so she would feel human again; Severus never seemed human to him, so he never wondered about his warmth.
The black haired vampire took his hand and guided it around the male body. Harry squeezed when he wanted to, when he wanted to see if the former potions' professor would come undone. Severus would sigh or moan---but never too loudly. Hermione would whimper and tremble---a signal before getting louder.
Someone---he couldn't remember who---teasingly bit into his arm and held his pulse point between those sharp teeth. Harry gasped and jumped back; the teeth released him.
(Can I do this? This is still what I want?)
Severus' form shifted in front of his wide green eyes. Hermione was behind him. She held his wrists back with one hand, and held his torso with the other; he struggled, but she was too effective at trapping for that. Severus leaned down and started his own exploration.
I know there's a big world out there like the one i saw on the screen
In my living room late last night,
It was almost too bright to see
(Still in his lap, Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. He hadn't offered; she didn't take---yet.)
(She promised him that she'd never leave him---she wanted to share the world with him. She wanted him to have a second chance, with her if he'd leave loneliness behind.)
(Before he could respond, she kissed him. She kissed his lips as if he were the oxygen she (no longer) needed. He groaned and tried to stop her; his attempts were half-hearted, and soon they ended up without clothes, without anything to hide their fears behind.)
(Hermione sank down onto him---she might have been a vampire, but she was still a young woman, and still a very attractive, young woman, so it didn't take Severus long to get ready---and whimpered and trembled before a low moan escaped her lips.)
(He had whispered his response before coming to the edge of pleasure and falling off of it, into the abyss. The word yes was pushed out between his dull teeth in a slow hiss; she shivered and took what she wanted. As she rolled her hips, she sank her fangs into his neck. She took desire from two sources, gorging on it until she could no longer feed.)
(He drank from her breast, until his veins were full, until his mind seemed sharp. And then, everything fell away. Everything except Hermione, wrapped around him.)
(She held him until the change was complete. And then, he held her.)
Severus tore himself away from his memories and looked at the young man between them. He asked questions. Harry whispered and begged for a conclusion.
And I know that it's not a party if it happens every night
Pretending there's glamour and candelabra
When you're drinking by candlelight
Harry looked at the two vampires and ripped his shirt off.
(I know you want this. I know you would like to rip this apart and feed---)
Hermione's eyes darkened. Harry thought he saw them fill with blood, but he wasn't sure. Severus had the gall to ask why.
(Because I don't want to exist anymore. Because... I am sick of everyone's reaction to me. I'm their hero and I never get privacy or---quick breath---nothing is special in my life anymore. I'm so sick of being treated like some sort of demi-god and I just want it to all stop. Long pause. Please, make it stop. Make my pulse stop. Make me disappear.)
He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw Hermione and Severus exchange a look.
(They will do it.)
What does it take to get a drink in this place?
They had returned to kissing and touching. Harry didn't understand why. But, Severus and Hermione weren't sharing their thoughts with him.
Had he been anyone else---not the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Whose Arse Needed Protecting for Seven Years, nor One of the Boys Who Hermione Had a Soft Spot For---Severus would have drained him of his blood without a thought.
Instead, he followed his eternal-life-mate's lead, licking and sucking and teasing himself and Harry.
Harry begged.
Severus ignored his sharp, pathetic cries and continued down Harry's body.
Hermione told him they knew how to make it feel good, and they would take care of him.
(Fool.)
What does it take, how long must i wait?
He slid onto Severus, whimpering and begging the entire time. With every inch of cold cock buried inside him, the pitch of his voice was raised. Severus remained silent.
He felt lips close over his pulse point in his neck and he stiffened.
(This is it.)
But nothing pierced the skin. His body sagged as he realised the vampire was just teasing him---either trying to scare him or arouse him. He didn't know which it was---but he knew the sensation shot straight to his groin, tightening everything in all the right ways.
Hermione moved so she was hovering over him.
(Oh my... Merlin's... I... holy hell.)
She sank down onto him and slid her arms around his waist so her hands could rest on Severus' torso.
(They're really going to kill me good.)
He didn't see the reason why gravity wasn't working against them, why they didn't break apart.
Could something be so good it was meant to be?
Harry closed his eyes and groaned. He imagined the headlines in The Daily Prophet.
(Boy Who Lived: Dead by Undead; Our Hero—Sex Fiend or Tragic Victim?; Vampire Sex and Crime: Destruction of a Hero; Boy Who Lived's Brains Exploded in Horrific Threesome; Bloodless and Loveless: Harry Potter Found Dead; Potter's Killers Staked by Angry Mob of Devastated Fans...)
And then it happened. Two sets of fangs broke the skin of his throat and sank deep into his flesh, into his veins. Harry felt an electric current shoot through him; his body convulsed and he knew he had climaxed between the two vampires, his two angels of death.
They continued to feed---although he thought he heard Severus chuckle.
Harry had never lost so much blood. For a brief instant, he wondered if that was how Draco felt in their sixth year.
And then the mouths released his neck. He couldn't open his eyes, but he wanted to. He wanted to ask them why they stopped. He wanted death---not life, hovering just above death.
(Are they... are they going to make me beg for it?)
He smelled something in front of him. Something delicious, and he wasn't sure why he should be thinking about food at a time like that.
He drank. He drank until someone pushed him away. Then, he drank again. He was full and sated and as a pain creeped into his abdomen, he realised he was far too alive to be dead.
When it hit him---he was too alive to be dead, but not to be becoming undead---he struggled against the two warmer bodies. But, they were stronger than he was for the time being so he could barely move.
'Sleep,' a voice told him. 'When you wake up, you'll be like us. You'll never be alone. You'll have us.'
(Hermione. Damn you.)
The darkness swallowed him whole, and the last thought in his mind was that he knew he wouldn't die.
And when he woke up again, he knew he was in a new place---a clean bed in a quiet room. And he knew that Severus was against his back and wide awake, while Hermione was at his front, sleeping fitfully.
(Do I have a family now?)
He didn't know. He didn't know that in the decades to come, he would have trouble accepting their decision. He didn't know that Hermione would go mad---from guilt, from the possibilities of an eternity, from so many other things. He didn't know that Severus would fall away from both of them, since he would be unable to choose a side in their fragmented threesome.
All he knew was that the pain in his heart had stopped... and he felt more at peace than he had in a long, long time.