Inell's Fanfiction Archive

The air was ripe with scent of sweat, roasted pork, and mud. Rain fell steadily outside the walls of the dark pub where he sought escape from the nightmare that had become his life. Harry Potter stared at the dark wood of the bar, oblivious to the loud laughter and conversations happening around him. The bottle of Firewhiskey before him was half empty, his glass half full, and his mind clouded by the effect of alcohol, dulling everything.

The sensation of being watched caused him to raise his head, his finger pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, green eyes looking at the barkeep for a moment before he looked back down at the worn wood of the bar. If he ignored the stare, perhaps they’d go away and leave him in peace. That was all he wanted now: peace and isolation. He finished his glass of Firewhiskey, filling it once again.

It had been a week since he had returned home from the War. Home. Devonshire was no longer home. He had no home, no place where he belonged; nothing was the same anymore. He wasn't even the same man he‘d been a year ago. No, then he‘d been a brash boy, convinced he would make a difference in a War he’d learned had no true winners, no right and wrong, merely shades of gray. He had killed people, cursed and tortured, willfully taken life from others. They were the enemy so it had been acceptable; he was not a murderer - he was a soldier.

What scared him the most was that he had begun to enjoy it. He’d taken pride in his kills, no longer caring why he was killing, just enjoying the rush of power and thrill of victory. He had lost track of the people who had died at the end of his wand, lost track of their faces, all blurring together after a while. Then, after he had changed and become a cold, unfeeling, lethal monster, the war had ended. They had won. He had been sent back and told to get on with his life, to rejoice at success and forget what he‘d done all in the name of the Greater Good. But he couldn’t. He no longer fit in with these people. He had seen too much....done too much.

Get on with his life? How could he do that when all he wanted to do at that very moment was watch the loud obnoxious man beside him bleed? To see his round face twisted in pain from Cruciatus, hear him begging for his life, a life that Harry would hold in his hands. Before the war, he had been a scholar, a thinker. He had apprenticed at Gringotts with the intention of becoming a banker, learning the rules and regulations.

A nice, quiet man. That's how he would have been described before the War. He had no female companion, having devoted most of his time to studies, though he had several he would visit when he had certain urges. He had been called, though, when war had broken oout on the continent. A wizard had been attempting to take control of their world, had wanted to take the very freedom that Harry so treasured. He’d not wasted any time in joining the fight.

He had changed away from the influence of all that was civil and right. He was a killer now. He enjoyed it. Even now the thought of taking someone's life could do such things to him. His cock hardened against the material of his breeches. Again, he felt the eyes on him. Finally, giving in, he looked around. Freezing when his green eyes collided with light gray.

A predatory smile crossed the lips of Sirius Black. The boy was looking at him. No more than 25, the lad was striking. He also had an aura around him; an aura of death that was intriguing, to say the least. Couple that with a beautiful face, piercing green eyes, and shaggy black hair, and you had a work of art. Sirius wanted him. He’d wanted him since he first saw him days go; coming back to this pub hence to watch and wait. The lad was ripe for the picking.

Sirius watched him stand, a bit wobbly from too much Firewhiskey. It would be to his advantage this evening that the lad had the fifth mug; make it easier to take him. He watched the boy move to the door, green eyes glancing at him from behind spectacles once before he left. Sirius stood and followed. He wasn't letting this one go. Ever.

Sirius followed the man down the block. There was something about him that touched a part of him that he thought had died when his life had drained from him oh so many years ago. Sirius had already decided that this man would be his first childe, a true companion and lover. His Sire had left him a few years after he’d been turned, coming back into his life occasionally but, for the most part, Sirius had been on his own for more than two decades. While many would consider the boy old enough to be a man, Sirius could not see someone so much younger than his own true age of forty-eight as such regardless of his own youthful appearance of twenty-two.

Harry knew someone was following him. He'd felt the presence since he had left the pub. It had to be the gray eyed man with the wild black hair that fell well past his shoulders, the one who had been watching him all week. Something about that man bothered Harry, but he couldn't quite decide what. He felt vulnerable when those pale eyes ran over him, feeling as if the handsome stranger could see into his very soul. He didn't like feeling weak.

He began to walk more quickly, nearly to his lodging. The man had not followed him before, content to just sit in the shadows and watch, the change in pattern bothering him . A rush of fear went through him as he turned the corner. There was something there, though, along with the fear that he didn't want to think about. It was anticipation. He saw his boarding house in the distance and gave a relieved sigh. He was almost home.

Sirius reached him, moving quickly. He pushed him against the wall of the fence, his eyes burning yellow. The man didn't scream, just looked at him calmly through those marvelous green eyes. It was finally time to claim what was his.

"Let me go," Harry said, his voice cold and rough as he pushed against the muscular man pinning him to the fence.

"Never," Sirius replied simply, smirking as he bared his fangs and bit deep into the man's neck. The taste of the blood made him hard, bitter copper spilling into his mouth, a touch of fear, arousal, and death. Groaning softly, he began drinking in earnest, his fangs tearing smooth pale flesh. He felt the boy struggle, trying uselessly to get free.

Sirius slit his wrist, offering the boy his blood. Still, he struggled, fighting against Sirius’ hold. Until he began to grow weak from loss of blood, his breathing slowing down, and then his mouth opened. Sirius felt a tentative lick, lapping at the flowing life-blood dripping from his wrist. The lick was repeated hesitantly once again before the black haired human began to suck greedily. The boy held his arm tightly as he drank. When he had his fill, Sirius pulled away. The boy closed his eyes as sleep overtook him. Brushing black hair from the lad's handsome face, he growled possessively, "Mine."

**********

Harry woke up slowly, a sharp pounding in his head. He felt different. He opened his eyes slowly, looking at the world with a different perspective. The smells were so strong, overwhelming his senses, his vision too keen, the world spinning as he clutched at the sheets beneath him. He felt hunger shoot through him, fierce hunger, need. A feral growl spilled from his lips as he bent over, holding his stomach and trying to adjust to the changes in his body.

Instantly, he remembered it all. The man who had followed him. Long black hair surrounding an angelic face. The feel of soft leather breeches against his hands as he’d struggled to get free. Wet lips on his neck, fangs ripping his skin. The bite. The blood. The sense of power he felt coursing through his veins. The lust for blood that was currently overwhelming him.

"What's your name, boy?" a voice spoke from the shadows.

Harry bristled. He felt his fear subside, replaced by intense need. This was the man who had turned him into this…"What am I?"

Sirius moved quickly, slapping the boy hard across the face. "Your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter, Sir," he stammered, his nails digging into his palm as he felt a conflicted urge to both fight and please the handsome man standing before him.

Sirius smiled as he pulled his childe to his feet, gripping his chin tightly. "Harry. My Harry. I am Sirius, your master, your sire. You obey me, you do as I say without hesitation. If I ask you a question again, you will answer me immediately or suffer the consequences."

Defiance filled green eyes. "What am I?"

"A vampire, my boy. One of the undead. Forever beautiful. More than that though. You are my childe."

"Vampires aren't real," Harry said cautiously, knowing the man must be insane. He had to have slipped him a potion at the pub, something to confuse him and make him feel this way.

Sirius’ face shifted, ridges appearing on his forehead as his fangs elongated. Holding his childe tighter, his eyes glowed golden as his mouth moved near Harry’s ear. "Never doubt me again, boy.” Chuckling softly, he pulled back and smirked. “Now, you must be punished for your words."

Harry jerked away when he felt the man‘s hand on his arse, squeezing him and pulling him against his lean body. "You can't touch me, you bastard! Let me go!"

Sirius laughed, his amusement evident as he removed his shirt. "Never tell me what to do Harry. You are mine, body and soul. Best to remember that. But, run if you like. The chase is half the fun, after all."

Harry watched with growing apprehension as the man calling himself Sirius removed his shirt, revealing muscular arms and a slender body. When he saw the handsome man removing his soft leather breeches, he bolted, believing it was his chance for escape. There was no way he'd let the man, sire or not, take him that way.

Sirius ran after his childe, enjoying the hunt. He loved it when they fought him; made it that much more fun to break them. He caught Harry downstairs, sending him sliding across the floor. His hand wrapped itself in the shaggy black hair that had first caught his attention. "Open wide, boy. No biting or you'll experience more pain than you’ve ever thought possible."

Harry watched in growing horror and arousal as the man took his cock and shoved it into his mouth, causing him to gag at the intrusion. He panicked, fearing that he wouldn‘t be able to breath, not yet able to comprehend that he was now the undead with no need for such things. He did nothing as Sirius began to thrust deep into his throat, having no idea what he was supposed to do, simply keeping his mouth open.

Sirius didn't seem to mind his lack of activity. He thrust deep, hitting the back of Harry's throat. Harry wanted nothing more than to simply be allowed to die. For Sirius to kill him while he was still under the effects of the potion that made it feel like he was dead. There was no way he could show his face after this humiliation. Another man was forcing himself on him, and he was completely helpless, unable to fight the stronger man. And, yet, even while he had images of fighting and fleeing, a part of him felt a calling towards the man with the long black hair and cold eyes, a need to please, to earn reward and favor.

Sirius pulled free finally, seeing the look of defeat slowly entering those mesmerizing green eyes. His hand caressed the side of his childe’s face as he demanded quietly, "Remove your clothing, boy. Now."

Harry stood shakily, his jaw sore and his shoulders slumped. Remembering who he was, recalling the lives he‘d taken and the power he possessed, he straightened his shoulders and faced Sirius defiantly. "No."

Sirius smiled, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. He hit once, knocking the boy back to the floor. Holding him in place on his knees, he ripped the brown breeches from his writhing form. Seeing the pale arse as it was bared made his cock throb even more.

"You are mine, Harry. Learn that now. I own your body. When I want you, you ask what way. If I tell you to bend over, you bend over. I can make this enjoyable for you, or I cannot. It is entirely up to you."

“Accio candle,” he said softly, gripping the lit candle and holding it over Harry’s back. Tipping it slightly, he watched the melted wax drip between the cleft of those firm cheeks. Harry cried out, a reminder to Sirius of his own turning, recalling easily the feeling of rebelliousness he’d felt as his own sire, Lucius, had forced him to endure far worse than he was doing to his childe. Even as he’d fought, he’d enjoyed it, wanting nothing more than to please his beautiful Sire.

He covered Harry’s arse and back with hot wax, close enough that it burned his flesh and stung with every single drop. When he tired of this amusement, he shifted, tossing the candle on the floor after he blew out the flame. Sirius rubbed the head of his cock against Harry’s arsehole, watching a mixture of saliva and pre-come coat the pucker. Harry was still struggling to break free, more so when the head of his cock pressed against him. Yes, this boy was going to be a wonderful childe. So spirited. So attractive. Sirius grinned before he thrust into the dry hole fully, burying his entire length in his new childe.

Harry's head snapped back from the force of the plunge, screaming as he felt himself tearing open. He was completely full, his body bucking beneath Sirius, trying to get free, even as his arse pushed back, wanting more, needing more. He tasted blood in his mouth, realizing he’d bitten his lip. Groaning, he began to suck his lip, his hunger rising once again.

Sirius was not gentle, his grip rough, his thrusts deep, focused only on his release. He had intended to do this nicely, but Harry had fought him, forcing him to prove his dominance. Of course, the chances of him ever being gentle were very unlikely. He continued to whisper to his childe, letting him know all the things that would be expected of him...all the things that would be done to him. Soon, the tightness of Harry’s arse, the smell of blood in the air, the whimpers that had started off protests before becoming soft begging, it was all too much. Sirius could feel his orgasm approaching, knew he was about to come. He pulled free, smiling at the blood that was covering his cock.

Harry felt fingers tangled in his hair, lifting his head as he remained on his knees. He looked up and saw Sirius smirking at him.

"Suck it."

He looked at Sirius’ cock and flinched. He could smell the blood, knew that it was his own. The scent was drawing him in, his tongue moving over his torn lip, a sharp pain spreading over him as his fangs began to elongate.

Sirius pushed his head back roughly, their eyes meeting as he was reminded silently that he would always belong on his knees with this man, with his sire. "I won't tell you again."

Harry opened his mouth, cautiously moving his tongue along the underside, his own cock beginning to harden as fingers brushed through his hair, telling him he was doing well. He felt Sirius stiffen, heard a low growl above his head right before his mouth and throat were flooded with come tinged with blood. The blood reminded him of his hunger, his hands moving behind Sirius to grip his arse, holding him as he began to move his head, sucking and licking, trying to get every drop that he could. He felt Sirius' hand on his head, patting him as he continued to lick, needing more. Looking up, green eyes met gray. He wanted to please his Sire.

"Good boy," Sirius said huskily as his fingers brushed through his childe‘s hair, feeling himself hardening once again.

The End