Pale

Note: Well, welcome to Part Three of my VHD obsession!

I'd go as far as to say that this is a VHD/Harry Potter crossover. There are only small mentions of Harry Potter characters however, mostly I am borrowing story lines. No prior Potter knowledge is needed to enjoy this. As some can tell I have already been using Horcruxes for bit, now I am taking it a step further. You may notice my version of certain events is more dramatic, it's intentional.

Part Three in a series.

Chapter One: Hallows

"Oh no here is it is again, I need to know when will I fall into decay." –Heaven's a Lie, Lacuna Coil

13, 974 A.D

The girl's dark eyes took in the grimly peaceful scenery without much care, flitting lazily across the crumbed, moss covered tombstones and easily picked out familiar names. She slipped her hand into the large, powerful ones of her lover, and leaned tenderly against his shoulder. Her lover had roamed the Frontier for far more years than she had been alive and it was simply in his nature to prefer the isolation, the quite of the Frontier, rather than the ever expanding realm of civilization.

The girl did not mind this. While she was quite attached to her nuclear powered motorbike that was easily capable of the speed of sound, she found herself infinitely weary of the overbearing spectacle of city life. It seemed more and more were fleeing the cramped confines of the city and returning to the wild simplicity of the Frontier. With virtually all power sources being atomic or nuclear it was unavoidable that there would be leaks or meltdowns. It became common sight to see individuals grotesquely burned, missing hair or bearing hideous young due to the unstable power source.

However, for the most part humanity was willing to take their chances, and use their risky power sources to fuel each new generation of their inventions. Over the past 2000 years or so, man had corrected all the faulty weather controllers beneath the Earth, and thus virtually illuminated the winter season, although they still allowed snowfall on occasion due to nostalgia. It had been 500 years since humanity had suffered the devastation of a single tornado, hurricane or drought, mankind even managed to still the Earth's ever shifting plates, thus locking the geological time line in a dead stand still. Virtually all disease had been wiped out, save for radiation sickness. Most humans lived to be up to 200 or longer, although aging of the skin could not be prevented.

The Capital once again sprawled across the heart of the Earth, denser, larger and fall taller than it had ever before been. Superhighways spread like veins across the whole of the Earth, and the sleek vehicles that traveled them were safely capable of close to light speed. The stars could not been seen from within the glowing cities, rather the sky was scattered with the countless, gleaming lights of satellites and rockets. The Capital was a far different place than when it had fallen into ruin, now it was a thriving epicenter that glowed day and night, with amazing crystalline sky scrapers that reached far higher than any mountain. Virtually every skyscraper was filigreed with gold to highlight the splendor of the city. All that remained of its former decay was a miniature crystalline tower that was long abandoned. It stood merely as a symbol of a brilliant victory long ago that had catalyzed the cities return to glory.

19 more major cites had sprung up across the Earth with countless smaller cities and towns scattered about but a vast portion of the Frontier remained untouched. Those who decided to pursue its calmer, albeit more rustic way of life did so willingly and harbored no fear in doing so. Many of the former demons of the night had learned to fear the violent weapons of the humans that at last gained the power to pierce their thick hides and armor. Many of the terrible beasts that had plagued the minds of children and adults alike had fallen into extinction.

Along with the Nobility that had created them.

But as with any extinction it was possible that not all that were presumed dead were really gone. From time to time a Noble would rise from their grave, and feast greedily upon the blood of the first victims that they saw only to realize that none of the victims they took screamed or even protested, and the taste of their blood was thin, watery and almost revolting. Their crimson eyes would fly wide with dismay as the humans flocked to them with curious and even adoring eyes. No stakes were raised, no torches were lit. The Noble could have walked forever among the humans, utterly untouched.

Perhaps that was why the Nobility had all but faded from the Earth. The Nobility did not yearn for worship, their primordial instinct demanded the thrill of the hunt, of utter mastery over humanity. The stakes where raised by there own hands, the handful of Vampire Hunters left were slaying their own employers.

"…..and those few, like my self that remain to glimpse upon the moon do so knowing that our time is truly gone." said the calm voice of the girl's ginger haired lover. "That is why the Nobility despises your adoration of my kind. We curse it just as we curse the man, the dhampir swine, that brought this sickening time upon us. That damned Hunter, the Vampire Hunter D. Ever since the day my kind walked in the daylight for a brief time, since he slew our one hope for glory, humanity has never feared us. They honored that fucking Hunter. They grew to even worship the half Noble blood in his veins. So long as the Vampire Hunter lives my kind are doomed."

The girl stared calmly at the Noble's grey eyes, his fangs were evident against his bloodless lips but indeed her gaze held only adoration rather than fear.

"You don't need to keep tellin' me this story, R. H. I am not a mindless idiot." The confidant voice the girl answered in was her usual one. "I agree with you already, most of my kind is mindless sheep that look desperately for their shepherd. Besides nobody has seen or heard of this "D" for over two hundred years, he's nothing more than pointless human history. He doesn't have shit to hunt anymore, except perhaps for rotten vegetables for some hick farmer."

"Well" said the vampire with an annoyed grunt, "you asked for a story Asenath."

"A story, yes. But not a damned history lesson. I am fuckin' sick of your constant scrutiny, I don't care shit if you are a vampire R.H, I am not another sheep. Now, tell me a real story."

R.H grinned lecherously at the girl; two thousand years ago the flash of his pearly fangs would have sent a woman into a seizure of panic.

The girl was in her late teens and relatively attractive….that is if you did not look directly at her face. Her slender, well curved body was clad in the stylish light, flowing gowns of the latest fashion, and her hair fell to her waist in thick, russet colored waves but a direct glace at her face marred the image of soft femininity. The whole of her features appeared too heavy, too blunt for the eye to appeal to, the jut of her jaw was to strong; the line of her brow to thick, and her eyes were like muddy, brown swamp pools. The full curve of her lips might have been sensual had it not been sharply turned upward to the right as though the flesh has been sliced brutally with a blade and healed poorly.

"Since when are you so interested in my stories, bitch." He laughed with a suggestive movement to his crotch.

Asenath merely crossed her legs and scowled her heavy face further, "Is it a crime for me to take a liking to more than just your cock?" she hissed softly, "You must know volumes about the legends of the Frontier, and I wish to hear it."

The vampire known as R.H grinned slightly, "Very well then, I'll tell you a legend I think you'll soon appreciate. It's the most mysterious, and the most powerful that I can recall. The legend of the Deathly Hallows."

At this the girl scoffed, "The Deathly Hallows! Are you fucking serious? That is nothing more than fairy tale."

"You haven't heard my version." The vampire pressed with a rather disconcerting insistency.

She sighed, "Well than it better be good."

The Noble began to speak.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a long, perilous road at midnight. In time they reached a river too deep and dangerous to attempt a crossing, however the brothers were learned in the magical arts so they simply waved their wands, and conjured a bridge to cross the dangerous water. They were halfway across it when they found their paths blocked by the hooded figure that was none other than Death.

"Death spoke to them, angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, yet as each mortal knows Death is cunning and instead of anger he showed the brothers only praise that they had outsmarted him. He offered each brother a prize for evading him.

"The eldest brother, who was combative, asked for a wand more powerful than any other before forged, a wand that always win duels for its owner. So Death crossed to an elder tree and from a slender branch fashioned the most glorious object known to the magical arts: The Elder Wand.

'The second, arrogant brother decided that he wanted to humiliate Death and force him to reverse his own nature. He asked of Death the power to recall those who he'd taken with him to the Underworld back to life. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and infused it with said power, thus created an object forever coveted by those who love and loose: The Resurrection Stone.

'The third brother however was humble and he was distrustful of Death, so he asked for a gift that would enable him to go forth from this place without being followed. So, most unwillingly Death handed him the cloak from his own rotting shoulders, and thus created the Invisibility Cloak.

'The three brothers went on their way and in time separated.

'The first brother traveled to a distant village and sought out a fellow wizard whom he'd long quarreled with, and challenged him to the death. Naturally the Elder Wand did not fail him in the duel, and when his enemy lay dead the elder brother snatched his enemies lover as his own and boasted through the town of the powerful wand he's snatched from Death himself.

'Yet the woman he'd claimed as his own was vengeful, and as the man lay snoring on her breast she snatched the wand from his bedside and for good measure slit his throat.

'So Death took the first brother as his own.

'Meanwhile the second brother went to his own home where he lived alone. He took out the stone and turned it thrice in his hand, and to his amazement and delight, the figure of the girl he had loved before her untimely death appeared at once before him.

'Yet she was sad, pale and cold, separated from him as thought though a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world she did not truly belong there and her fragile body suffered constantly, without hope of healing. Finally the second brother was driven mad with his hopeless longing, and plunged a dagger into her heart, and then tightened a noose around his own neck so as to truly join her.

'So Death took the second brother as his own.

'But Death searched for the final brother for many, many years but was never able to find him, the power of his own cloak was bewitching even to his own eyes. It was only when the third brother reached a great old age that he cast off the cloak and handed it own to his son. He greeted Death as an old friend and went willingly with him.

'Thus was the creation of the three most sought after objects of magic: The Deathly Hallows. If the three objects were brought together it was presumed that the objects would render the wielder ultimate power, incapable of defeat, the Master of Death. Only once was such a feat accomplished, when by blind luck a wizard of 17 managed to unite the Hallows and defeat a dark war lord. But like a fool the boy wizard let the Hallows slip from his grasp and broke the Elder Wand of its power. The Invisibility Cloak he passed to his son, and was kept so until the bloodline of Potter was destroyed in the Second Noble Revolution. The Resurrection Stone, the foolish boy dropped in battle, and never dared to recover.

'The cloak of Invisibility as you can understand is quite useless in this day and age, but the Resurrection Stone every man, woman, Noble and child alike has dreamed of finding, but that is where the tale ends."

Asenath's dull eyes held no interest in R.H's grim tale," That's all? Like I have said I have heard that story a dozen times before."

A cynical smile spread across the vampire's pales face, "Than would you like to hear another?"

Asenath stood, her leather boots creaked as she moved and wound her arms about the Noble's neck, "No, I don't."

"I thought as much you predictable little whore." He sneered, the crimson of his eyes flashing brighter.

Apparently the girl was unfazed by such a degrading comment, as she leaned upward and pressed her lips to her lover's without care. The fact of the matter was the Noble had talked to her in such a matter quite often, and it was just as common for Asenath to be nursing blacked eyes, a broken nose or livid bite marks about her neck due to the Noble's temperament. She seemed to possess a rare immunity to the Noble curse, as mortal blood still flowed in her veins. Therefore she was willing to deal with the pain, his side was the only place she had to call home.

All too soon Asenath was pinned brutally down beneath the rotting flowers of a still fresh grave, and while her breathing was fevered, her heavy brow was furrowed slightly as the fastenings of her dress came undone far to soon for her tastes. The girl's arms, chest and belly were sheathed in tattoos. Her scarred, swollen lips remained for the most part uncaressed by the Noble's lips, whom made it clear he was revolted by their touch, yet his hands were all too eager against her breast, his masculinity painful inside of the sheathe of her womanhood. She bit back a scream, and merely clutched R.H closer to her body.

At least she did not have long to endure his painful affections, in only minutes R.H was panting heavily on the brink of orgasm. But it was at that brink that he grasped a handful of her hair, and yanked her head back, exposing her scarred, slender neck the moonlight. A violent snarl rumbled in his throat, his eyes burned as flames as his vicious mouth opened wider.

"NO!" Asenath cried. It was her usual protest; a blinding instinct to fight the violation of her lifeblood. She tried to resist, her hands pressed uselessly against the Noble's iron bulk. The scream that welled from her was truly terrible as his astute fangs plunged down to her carotid. The jagged pain was quickly replaced however with a deluge of soft, numbing relaxation. It allowed her to partially enjoy his brutal thrusts within her, a soft heat to burn in her loins. Her left breast was burning queerly, as though it had been cut by the point of needle sharp dagger.

R.H let out a wild scream against her neck, yet it was far from an impassioned cry of pleasure. He twisted away from her, blood was flooding down his chest, and his demonic face was twisted with brilliant agony. Jutting from his chest was the thin, curved blade of a sword, but as soon as Asenath saw the elegant blade it was pulled from his chest. R.J had time for another; agonized roar before he collapsed onto his knees, and fell into a fine, powdery dust.

Standing behind the settling dust cloud of her Noble lover towered a form so vivid in it's beauty that it caused the girls heated loins to quiver further in desire, pushing far from her many any urge of hatred.

Her lover's killer was wreathed in the moonlight that gave light to his marble pale features. It was utterly evident to her eyes that no human man could ever have possessed such glorious beauty and still draw breath, the features of his face were narrow, angular and sensual with masculine beauty. His eyes were slender and long, fringed with dark lashes and even in the darkness she could see that the eyes they framed where as black as the night itself. His lips were set in a thin, bloodless line. He was slim, and yet taller and more elegantly muscled than any man she'd ever seen. He wore his hair in thick black waves that fell to his hips yet the ends looked rather jagged, as though they had been hastily cut merely to keep the strands out of the way when he sat. The style of his clothing was most unusual, he wore the thick leathers, and spiked gauntlets and armor more typical of a mercenary. An immense, wide brimmed hat was perched atop of his head, and several bright jewels gleamed about his neck, wrists and hands. In his slender right hand he held the immense, curved long sword that had brought the death of her lover.

"How….how….could you…"Asenath breathed, the words sounding more like a moan from her trembling lips.

Calmly the gorgeous form sheathed his sword, but did not appear to regard the girl with any form of interest. "You do not appear especially offended by the death of your lover."

She gave a soft sob, inwardly she would not have liked to admit that it was brought on by only now acknowledging that her caretaker was dead, rather than the instant sorrow she should have felt. Her hand went to her gushing throat.

"Have you been bit before?" said the stranger. His voice was cool, detached and steely. She supposed that if a blade had been given a human voice this is what it might sounded like.

The girl nodded slowly, "It doesn't matter tho…I have never been changed. I…don't wanna…" she answered slowly, unsure of why she'd never shared the rest of humanities desire of immortality, yet it had always been, there rising from her lips and pounding angrily in her breast when R.H had violated her with his fangs.

She never even saw the gorgeous man move, the next thing that she knew he was knelt before her and with a thin finger tilted her head up and again exposed her neck. She could feel a burning hot line in her flesh were his eyes fell upon the wounds but soon enough he released her, his eyes momentary gazed into hers. Asenath blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she basked in the hardened gaze of those onyx eyes. She kept reminding her self to blink, afraid that if she did not she would become forever entrapped with their stare. They were eyes that had witnessed sadness, and violence beyond compare.

The stranger nodded sharply. "You seem to have a rare immunity." And with that he rose and turned wordlessly away.

"Wait!" Asenath cried desperately, partially in despair of never glimpsing upon the gorgeous man again. She had to force rage into her voice, "W...why the hell did you kill him! I…he was all I had in the world!"

The figure stopped, "Then you're in far more danger than you've dare dreamed."

"Well…then…help me or somethin'! I have nowhere else to go!" she cried, only now aware of her nakedness and gathering her dress about her form.

"My work here is finished."

"Tell me your name!" she cried out in one last fit of desperation.

The figure was moving once more, a single letter met the girl's ears, "D."