Scarlet and Obsidian (A Harry Potter Fanfic)

***Set in the summer between fifth and sixth year, Harry accidentally takes down the wards around his home and finds himself thrown into Manor. Severus Snape is there to, but their escape leads to unforseen consequences. Creature!Fic Vampire!Snape Slash Snarry. Angsty beginning , fluffy end, please please please review. Hope you like it :D***

His feet pounded the tarmac streets, his pulse racing - his only thought was to get away. Finally he skidded to halt and lent against a wall to catch his breath, sinking into the shadows in case anyone drove by.

There's no way I'm going back to that hell hole, he decided I don't care what Dumbledore says, that place is not my home!

There was about three seconds between that thought and a loud crack of somebody apparating. His head snapped round to see the pale face of Lucius Malfoy sneering triumphantly. Before he could react the man grabbed his arm and spun on he spot, dragging Harry into a side-along apparition.

They reappeared in a dungeon, he was flung gracelessly to the floor before the door slammed shut in his face. He cursed loudly, banging against the door and shouting profanities.

"Potter are you really so lacking in mental facilities that you believe begging and hitting a reinforced steel dungeon door would secure your escape?" the voice sounded hoarse and strained but it was unmistakable.

Harry spun round, shocked "Professor? Professor Snape?"

"No, Potter, it is I, Cornelius Fudge. Who do you think it is?"

"Do you ever say anything that's NOT sarcastic?"

"All the time."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"I'll leave your brain to figure that one out. Clean up the blood you appear to be leaking everywhere."

"I'm barely bleeding, and if I leave it it will clot and scab over faster. How can you even see anyway? It's pitch black!"

"Clean up that blood, Potter" the Potions Master growled.

"Sheesh, I scraped my knee! It's not even properly bleeding, the skins just come off. There's nothing I can do - why does it bother you so much anyway? And how can you see so well, even at all, in pitch black!?" he demanded again.

"Not everyone has such frightfully abysmal eyesight as you do, Potter. And it is in the interest of such a thing called hygiene that I ask you to keep your petty wounds from becoming infected, though I see I overestimated you to understand such a thing."

There was a pause, and Harry stared very closely at his teacher. "My scrape is underneath my trousers," he said slowly, "you couldn't have seen it, no matter how keen your eyesight."

There was a very heavy silence. "Don't even think about-"

"You didn't see the blood, did you? You smelt it."

"Potter, I'm warning you to stop right there."

"And you have extraordinary night-vision. You're always pale and you're never outside when its sunny" -pause- "Professor, are you a vampire?"

"Keep your overly-used mouth shut, Potter." he hissed

"And your hungry."

"What makes you say that?" he asked sharply.

"The hungrier the vampire, the more sensitive their senses are to blood and sustenance." he quoted from his (or rather, Hermione's re-phrasal of her own) third-year essay on vampires.

"Well you had better sit further away - not that you can."

"How long has it been since you fed?"