Author's Note: Still own nothing Degrassi-related.

Visitors

"What is this?" Saraiah gasped from halfway down the winding staircase as none other than the brash and determined Declan burst through the mansion doors. She had not seen that face for going on six months now, and she had, perhaps naïvely, believed she would be ever more safe from her feelings both for and against him.

But even more disturbing a sight to meet her eyes was the pale and weakened figure whom Declan dragged behind him – a pile of black rags, its only sign of life the ragged breathing that retched against the torn and damp excuse for clothing. Struck with sympathy, Saraiah quickly made for the creature, whom Declan had carelessly discarded on the cold floor.

But Declan held up a single hand and Saraiah stopped dead at the sign, still only partway across the large and drafty foyer. The physical suggestions of her former teacher's body language apparently still held merciless sway over her. "Well?" she panted, trying to cover what she perceived to be her weakness in this grand master's presence. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We don't have time for questions today, Saraiah," Declan intoned gravely, ever the cool professor. His voice was soft, not abrupt like his actions.

"Well why are you here?" Saraiah persisted, crossing her arms over her chest. She snuck a glance at Declan's sad load. Human or vampire, it was a man, she could see now. And he, too, was peeking at her from under his dark hood, from under the scraps of black hair that fell greasily over not frightened or disturbed, but markedly cunning eyes.

"You can see very well why I am here," Declan replied, following her gaze. "We have a visitor."

"I think you mean that I have visitors – plural, more than one. You are one of them, and if we are keeping score, I must say that you are not a welcome one."

Declan ignored her retort as he threw off his own cloak and clomped into the next room, the parlour, muttering to himself. Saraiah caught some of the words: "need some rope...dire consequences...more than unfortunate."

She called after him sarcastically. "If this is a social call, perhaps I can fetch us some coffee and toast."

Leaving the second 'visitor' stretching and grunting a bit on the floor, she swore, then hurried after the first visitor.

"What, may I ask, are you doing!" she cried, when she saw his large hands on the heavy velvet curtains of the front bay window. She was too late, however. The drapes fell in one swoop to a pile on the floor, similar to the one Saraiah had left in the foyer, but more elegant in their former beauty of forest green cloth and golden thread, and therefore even more tragic to her in their swift demise.

"Rope," Declan murmured, picking up the golden cords and abandoning the rest as he crossed to the heavy oak desk and started rifling through the drawers.

Saraiah's heart hurt. How dare he destroy her things, how dare he go through her paperwork? Yet she had tired of this mystery and had no words now to contain Declan's actions. So she simply whispered, "You are maddening," and returned to the foyer.

The man was still on the ground, although he had shifted to a sitting position, his back supported by the door, whose yelp from the slam Declan had forced upon it Saraiah still felt to echo throughout the house. Her visitor did not look up upon her arrival. He was combing his fingers through his dishevelled hair here, rebuttoning his cloak there. Were he a cat, he would be absolutely grooming his proud, shiny coat.

Saraiah took the opportunity to examine him further, having nothing else to do until Declan decided to let her in on the secrets he purposely teased her with.

He had a thick yet gaunt face, Saraiah decided, decorated with a roundish nose and studded with those knowing, playful eyes. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought him to be grinning. But surely not. Not if that rope – more accurately the pulls of the lovely curtains she had slaved over as a gift ordered by her father for her mother during Saraiah's teenage years – was intended for him.

Though he had not acknowledged her, when he looked up the man's eyes landed directly on hers. He had been aware of her presence, her watchful eye. "I think I might be able to answer some of those questions," he stated simply.