This turned out much more fluffy than I at first intended; Then again, I kinda wrote what I felt like writing, and I had a fun time writing it. In a way, I wrote this for myself. If anyone else enjoys it, then that's a bonus. I'll probably go back and revise this at a later time so that it flows better.

This chapter features a lot of Alucard/Integra fluff, so if you're not into that, then you probably won't enjoy it. Fair warning.

Part Two: Illusions and Allusions

Despite everything, Integra Hellsing was still a human teenager.

She viewed this as an inconvenience and a weakness, and her life didn't permit weaknesses. Typical teenage trapfalls, such as sudden emotions or illogical confessions of love, only welcomed betrayal and blackmail. In fact, she could only fully trust two people in the entire world: Walter and... Well. Maybe one person.

Three days had passed since the attack in the alleyway. No one had mentioned the incident - Not even Alucard, who thrived on taunting Integra. Everything had returned to normal; or at least, as normal as things got in the Hellsing household. Integra gladly filed the entire event, movie and all, as a mistake she didn't intend on making again. In simpler terms, she was over it.

Or at least, that's the facade she presented.

As expected, Alicia remembered nothing of that night. When she had seen Integra the following day, she enthusiastically waved and suggested the two of them should see a movie that weekend.

"You know, I don't believe what the other girls say," Alicia had said, her voice low. "I don't think you're weird or evil."

Integra politely excused herself from the conversation.

There are two faces each person wears: One they put on display to the world, a reflection of how they would like to be viewed, and another they wear when they're alone and their guard is down.

Integra liked to think her appearance never changed; that she was always the impenetrable fortress that held her head high and intimidated Her Majesty's knights with a stony gaze.

Late that night, however, when a stack of paperwork was waiting for her in her office, she found herself in the rarely-used entertainment room instead. Dressed in a pair of navy pajamas, Integra was curled on the couch in front of the big screen tv. An awful B-Rate horror film from the 80s was playing currently. It featured terribly cliche vampires with embarrassingly fake fangs and caked-on white makeup; how most people viewed the undead, she supposed. Well. It was better than the romantic vision that some had adopted.

A glass of wine was clutched tightly in her hand. It was her second glass of the evening, and she could feel her head swirling slightly. She took a large drink, cringing slightly at the flavor. Briefly, she wondered how people enjoyed the taste, but then her fingertips tingled and her chest warmed, and it lessened the heavy weight in her heart. It was pleasant.

However, it did have a second, more unwelcome side effect.

Integra was crying.

It wasn't a full sobbing cry; it was more hollow and numb - Empty tears with no rhyme or reason. Why? She would stare at the tv screen, at an undead dramatically hissing at its prey, and an empty stray tear would streak down her cheek.

How embarrassing. How pointless.

She swallowed the bitter taste of wine and dulled her emotions with the shudder that followed.

Integra felt his presence behind her before she saw him: The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, and the shadows in the corners seemed somehow darker, more dangerous. Quickly, she swiped her palms over her cheeks to get rid of any evidence of tears, but she knew the red tint of her face and bloodshot eyes betrayed her. Dammit. Why did it have to be him, of all people?

He approached her, but she refused to turn to acknowledge him, feigning interest in the television instead. The white gloved hands that firmly gripped her shoulders were smaller than she was expecting. It wasn't until he leaned close to her, his face hovering near her ear, that she sensed something was off. "Mind if I join you?" The voice that softly spoke to her was light and feminine; nothing at all like Alucard's deep baritone voice.

Integra jerked around in alarm, ignoring the wine that splashed onto her pajama pants, and held her hand out defensively. She took in the female creature before her: Long black hair, blunt bangs, porcelain skin; Integra's age, if not slightly younger. It laughed at her reaction, revealing two long fangs. If those didn't give away the creatures' undead state, its glowing crimson eyes certainly did. They were alight with sinister amusement, staring the object of its attention down critically.

Integra knew that smile and those eyes well. "Alucard?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

His lips twitched upward. "My Master," he responded in that same feminine voice.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Do you not like it?" With a flourish of his hands, he presented his new feminine form. His body was smaller as a female, and he seemed to prefer white over his typical darker clothing. The white double breasted suit, accented by a black button up undershirt and red tie, made a powerful image with his pale skin and dark hair. "I took on this form quite often during the war. Walter certainly liked it back in the day." No matter what appearance he took, that laugh never changed.

Integra scoffed and turned back to her movie. "I'm not in the mood for your games, Alucard. Find someone else to irritate."

"Like the poor helpless citizens of Britain?" he retorted.

"Only if you wish to be chained in the basement for another twenty years, vampire." Keeping her expression carefully neutral, she returned her wine glass to the coffee table in front of her.

There was silence after that, but Integra knew he hadn't left; his presence lingered heavily behind her. After a moment, he stepped around the couch and sat beside her. She could feel his gaze burning into her, but decided it was best to just ignore him. If he noticed her bloodshot eyes, he didn't mention it, and for that, she was thankful.

At last, Alucard stated, "If you want me to leave, you can simply order it."

There was no response, which Alucard took as permission to stay. Still, it wasn't quite the reaction he was hoping for, so he stretched across the couch till his head was resting in her lap.

Surprised at the sudden unexpected action, Integra blinked down at the Vampire King currently reclining across her. "Really, Alucard?"

He grinned softly. "If I had known you longed for female company, I would be happy to oblige."

Was that what this was about? She scoffed at the thought. "Honestly, if I wanted company of any sort, you'd be the last person I'd seek out." Even so, her fingers brushed over his hair. It drifted like silk through her fingers, never tangling, and draped elegantly over her lap and knees. His skin was too smooth to be human, she noted. There were no pores or flaws; this form was crafted perfection, an imitation of humanity. And though she'd never admit it, she found this form of his to be very beautiful. "Is this how you lure people to trust you?" she inquired.

His eyelids lowered over blood-red eyes at her soft administrations. "Is it working?"

"No matter what form you take or familiar you summon, I know exactly what you're capable of, vampire."

At those words, his illusion of innocence shattered: his lips spread into a grin that was a shade too wide to be human. The expression revealed too many razor sharp teeth.

If Integra had been intimidated by the implicit threat, she didn't show it. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips twitched upward at his theatrics. "Reprehensible beast," she muttered softly, yet her fingers traced down the soft slope of his jawline to rest upon his chin. "Yet I don't fear you either." To prove her point, her fingertips brushed over his lips without hesitation. They parted, and a breath of cool air fluttered over her hand.

"Should you?" Alucard inquired, examining her face with amusement glittering in his gaze.

"You tell me," she responded. "My men fear you. My father and ancestors fear you. It's why they bound you to the Hellsings in the first place and why my father locked you away for twenty years."

"Abraham bound me because I was a terror to Europe and to Mina." He smirked. "I can't deny that. As for why your father locked me away, well..." He hesitated, thinking over his next words. "I'm sure he had his reasons. Fear was probably one of them. Maybe he feared for his blushing new bride, maybe it was for the future children he wished to have." Something in his eyes hardened dangerously. "Maybe it was guilt for years of torture I endured at your family's orders." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the idea and by extension, the malice. "Either way, you are not Arthur, and you are not Abraham."

"I wonder," she said softly. The tip of her index finger pressed against the center of his chest, over his heart, as thought it were the pointed end of a stake. "If I've disappointed them. If I'm too weak, too inexperienced, too..." Her hand went slack against his chest.

"Ladylike?" he offered.

Her gaze narrowed onto his face once more.

He made a small grunt in his throat. The sound landed somewhere between masculine and feminine. "I've met many strong leaders in my time and seen the characteristics that defined them. Gender was never one of those features. Those who underestimate women deserve to fall by their hands. If those Round Table fools don't recognize your strength yet, I look forward to the day when you prove them wrong. I would like to see any of them attempt to earn my loyalty."

"Those are respected Knights chosen by the Queen herself, Alucard."

"They're a bunch of overweight, mustache-twirling cowards hiding behind money. You should allow me to play with them in your next meeting, my Master. It would be entertaining and enlightening. I could show you how fast they become whimpering scum pissing their pants at the barest threat."

"You are not a minor threat, may I remind you."

A cruel smile spread over his face once more. "You needn't remind me of anything."

An abrupt scream from the television drew his attention. He turned his head in her lap and examined the terrible acting of a potential victim onscreen. "What ARE you watching?" he questioned.

"A film about the brides of Dracula. Do you not approve?"

A male vampire with greased-back hair had wandered onscreen. His fangs were comically large and impaired his speech; Ketchup-like blood dribbled down his chin. Around his neck, he wore the classic Count medallion made popular by Bela Lugosi.

Alucard's upper lip coiled over his sharp fangs. The expression of his disgust was infinitely more chill-inducing than anything the onscreen vampires could have invoked. "Tell me that's not supposed to be me."

She brushed a lock of his black hair away from his cheek and smirked. "I think it's a rather apt portrayal."

At that moment, the want-to-be Dracula hissed and recoiled at a silver cross, hands feebly clawing at the air as he retreated away.

Integra couldn't help it: At her vampire's indignant look of disbelief, she let out a peel of laughter. It was rare for the Hellsing heir to relax enough to laugh, and it felt good. The absurdity of everything, of her entire existence, of the alcohol currently pulsing through her veins, all culminated into a cruel joke, and suddenly she was laughing at that too. It wasn't even that comical - or perhaps it was, in a way - but she couldn't seem to stop. She curled forward until her forehead was resting atop his chest. Water pooled in her eyes, and she couldn't tell if it was from laughter or something more bitter and painful.

At last, her laughter died down, and she turned her head to look at his face. Her blonde hair was a messy veil over her head and clung to her wet cheeks. Her glasses tilted awkwardly on her face.

Alucard was watching her with a curious mixture of amusement and confusion. "You humans are so strange."

With her ear pressed against his chest, she could feel the vibration of his voice and wondered if he altered his vocal chords to affect his pitch or if it was an illusion brought on by magic. "Says the centuries-old vampire that parades around as a little girl." She fell quiet then, listening to the very sluggish beat of his heart because, contrary to popular belief, vampires did have a heartbeat, albeit faint and barely-there. Other than that, he was perfectly still. No breath passed through him. It was uncanny and a useful feature for a predator to have.

Laying here, the two made a starkly different contrast: Her tan skin against his deathly white; Long blonde hair entangling with his inky black locks; Cold blue diamonds of eyes clashing with a burning red that reflected the flames of hell itself. Protestant Master and Godless Monster, for he was undeniably the definition of violent chaos upon this earth.

Though somehow, despite all of that, resting there with him was somehow calming.

Unfortunately, it was also uncomfortable, and Integra sat up to relieve the cramp forming in her spine. Her straight blonde hair formed a curtain around both of them as she looked down upon his face, at the newest mien he had adopted. Though this form was quite different from the typical guise he embodied, there were some similarities: The regal slope of his nose was the same, as was his high cheekbones. His jawline was familiar, albeit softened in his female form. And of course, there was no mistaking those eyes.

His gaze was soft as he let her examine him. How many had dared get this close to the vampire and lived to tell about it? She wondered if even her father had allowed himself any sort of proximity with their weapon. She had spent enough time with him to know that he did possess intelligence and rationale, however warped it may be. Was it a weakness then, to treat him as a person rather than a brainless monster? Or, rather, was knowing her weapon personally a strength all its own? There was no guide book to mastering an enslaved monster, no rules to follow, and the advice that had been passed down to her was full of experimentation and torment. Obviously, those methods had done nothing but imbue him with even more power.

What other teenager had to face these sort of questions? Without peer, without anyone but herself and God and Dracula himself to answer to?

A stray tear, leftover from earlier, gathered beneath her round glasses. It fluttered down her cheek, catching briefly on the slope of her chin, and tumbled to land on Alucard's face.

It was enough to break the spell, and Integra recoiled back, embarrassed at her show of emotion. And in front of a demon that used such petty feelings for his own gain, no less!

For a moment, neither of them moved. Integra held her own breath in tune with Alucard's own unnatural stillness. Then his mouth opened, and a disturbingly long tongue emerged from between his carnivorous teeth and lapped at the drop of wetness on his cheek.

In an instant, he moved, faster than her eyes could register, like a snake striking. The nigh-unflappable Iron Maiden startled at the sudden inhuman movement. At once, his face was a breath away from her heated cheek, his nose trailing a path along her skin as he took in her scent and perhaps read something in it. A gloved hand hovered above her hair, though he never once touched her. There was a chaotic restraint within him, within his tense muscles and careful motions. At that moment, she had never been quite so aware of how dangerous the game she played with her servant truly was.

After a beat of tension, he dragged his tongue along the salty path up her cheeks to taste her tears once more. It left a new streak of cold saliva in its wake, and the unpleasant sensation made Integra cringe. She pushed against his chest to urge him to back away, but it did nothing until he decided to back away of his own accord. No matter what form he took, he always retained that terrible, incomparable strength.

He was positioned across her legs, one arm holding himself up as he loomed over her. His face was still too close to hers for comfort, and the intensity of his red gaze burned against her.

"It figures you'd crave the taste of tears like you desire the flavor of blood," she informed him calmly.

"Believe me," he responded. "I'd much rather taste your blood." The soft white fabric of his gloved hand cupped her chin and gently urged her to tilt her head to the side. His hungry stare flickered to her exposed jugular.

Integra clutched onto his wrist, stopping his suggestive train of thought. "That's not going to happen."

"Then tell me who caused your tears, my Master, so I can crush their bones and tear open their throats and devour their blood and soul."

She smirked at his yearning for bloodshed. "You'd be more likely to taste my tears than to taste the blood of every poor human that crossed me. I'm not the kind of leader that would decorate my yard with corpses, dear Count."

"Tch!" He scowled at the not-so-subtle jab at his past as a ruler.

As emphasis to her verbal victory, she pushed him away from her. He complied, falling next to her on the couch. Without him in the way, she reached once more for her almost-empty glass of wine.

"A bit young to be drinking by today's standards, aren't you?" Alucard said.

Integra downed the last bit of alcohol and gave him a sly look. "Why? Going to tell Walter on me?"

With a scoff, he reached for the bottle on the table before them. "Far be it for me to judge anyone's drinking habits." He examined the label, then crinkled his nose in distaste. "Though next time, I suggest I select the brand of wine."

Integra shrugged and extended her glass to him in a silent request. He obeyed and refilled her drink with an elegance that rivaled the trained servers in the finest restaurants. With a wave of his free hand, he produced his own glass from lord-knows-where and filled it with the remaining wine.

The two fell silent. Onscreen, a vampire hunter plotted the death of Dracula while Dracula listened from the shadows.

"Messy," Alucard commented.

Integra wasn't sure if he meant the hunter or the vampire, but she hummed her agreement nonetheless. "If the Hunter were smart, he would wait till daylight to plan instead of shouting his plot into the shadows."

"And yet the vampire still toys with his prey rather than build an army of his own. He deserves whatever comeuppance he'll get in this story."

Well familiar with her vampire's history, Integra glanced at him. "Oh really? Then tell me, Alucard, how well did that fare for you when facing my grandfather?"

His eyes widened with a combination of surprise and annoyance. The expression appeared oddly more innocent than usual on his feminine face. Then he grinned suddenly, maliciously, and whatever childish innocent illusion he had disappeared with the violent gleam of red irises. "My, my, the young Hellsing master has a sharp wit tonight." His fangs gleamed white in the dim room. Though she carried the knife-like wit, he wielded the dangerous blades to back them.

Integra chuckled, and the sound was a bandaid over the cut of her words. "Might I remind you, you were the one to impose on me tonight, Alucard." It was always their dance - Cruel jabs, a battle of wills, vicious observations. Yet in the end, they still sought out each others' company.

With that thought, her mood sobered. She took a small sip of her drink and watched as he did the same. It was rare that she ever saw him drink something other than blood. Though, she supposed, the dark red wine did look quite similar.

"May I ask you a question?" she said. When he inclined his head in permission, she continued forward before she lost her nerve. "Do you ever resent that night three years ago, Alucard? When I awoke you from that twenty year stupor? Do you ever wish my Uncle had achieved his wish, to murder me and succeed my father as head of the Hellsing house?" She paused briefly, then looked him directly in the eyes. "As your master?"

Alucard hummed thoughtfully, idly playing with a strand of black hair in a decidedly feminine gesture. She found the motion very peculiar coming from him. "Your uncle couldn't have controlled me. He wouldn't have had the strength nor the willpower. I would have easily broken him, devoured him, and been free."

"Hmm." She paused thoughtfully, her face carefully blank. "So you do wish I had died that night? You'd have your freedom."

Alucard sighed - an unnecessary action coming from an undead. "Oh my dear Integra. If I truly wanted out of these bonds, do you think this sigil could ever stop me?" He lifted his hand, his faintly glowing red irises examining the pentagram insignia ingrained on his gloves and his soul. Then he lifted his gaze to her, his eyes suddenly sharp. "I have considered the many ways I could sever these bonds. I am very powerful. If I genuinely desired my freedom, I would find a way out, no longer bound to you or your family."

A nervous chill, muted by the alcohol, fluttered along her body. Her lips tightened into a thin line. It was something she had often wondered about - How strong exactly were her vampire's bonds? What would happen if he ever found a weakness in them? Almost dreading the answer, she asked him softly, "So why haven't you?"

He smirked down at his wine glass, swirling its burgundy contents around. "You are asking many tricky questions tonight, my master. I don't believe we've talked like this since that first night you met me." He brought the glass to his lips and sipped its contents before continuing. "I once had lofty dreams to escape your family's curse, just as I had dreams to conquer Europe. But those lofty aspirations no longer hold my interest. Perhaps I've grown complacent in my old age or accustomed to the servitude." He met her steady gaze. "Perhaps I find your little organization infinitely entertaining. Either way, does it matter?"

"If you have the ability to break these bonds, it does."

"Breaking these bonds would mean killing you, Master."

Her fist tightened into her pajama pants. "Are you saying you don't wish me dead, vampire? The same hunter who descends from your greatest enemy?"

"It seems," he responded, "that I do not."

Silence.

Onscreen, the humans emerged triumphant. Dracula dramatically swore his revenge as a pointed stake was driven through his heart.

"It's funny," Integra said. "I spent my life learning how to hate your kind and destroy you. My father read me passages from Dracula when other children read fairy tales. And yet, here we are, and I worry about how normal I find your presence in my life. Surely my ancestors intended for you to be little more than a punished weapon in our arsenal. And yet..." Her gaze became unfocused on the wine reflecting the television screen, tiny flickers of light caught in the crimson ripples. "It wasn't a knight that came to my rescue all those years ago. It was Dracula himself."

"I am no knight," Alucard stated.

She laughed. "I've met Britain's knights. Hell, I'm a member of the Round Table myself. Most of them are... What was it you called them? Mustache-twirling cowards? No, you certainly aren't a knight." The mirth faded from her face. She looked over him, over the white outfit he currently wore and the inhuman visage of a female he had crafted. She frowned. "I grow tired of your trick, Alucard. Change back to your usual self."

Without a word, he placed his wine glass on the table and complied. Shadows knitted together around his body, crafting muscle and skin, fabric and veins. His bones snapped as his body lengthened into a masculine form.

"Better?" he asked in the deep voice she was so used to.

She looked over his black double breasted suit. It seemed he had left the red jacket, hat, and glasses off. She nodded her approval.

Making a sudden decision, she reached for a drawer on the coffee table in front of her, and retrieved a sharp letter opener. Alucard's lips parted as he transfixed on the object.

Integra stood. "Kneel and look at me."

Wordlessly, he complied, sliding off the couch and falling to his knees before her. His brows knitted together in confusion.

"This is our agreement," she announced.

The blade was dragged over her palm. At the smell of blood, his nose flared and his fingers twitched, but he made no other movement.

She held the precious wound out of his reach. "This is the price I pay for your servitude, Alucard. Whether by choice or by mystical bonds of my family, you are mine. Unlike my ancestors, I pay you in blood by my own choice, and you will serve me by your own volition. Do you understand?"

He bowed low before her till tendrils of his black hair touched the ground. The shadows wrapped around them, coiling across the walls. "Yes, my master," he purred. The honesty behind those words, and what that honesty meant, caused a cold shutter to pass through her.

With that declaration, she offered her palm to him. His fingers curled around her slender wrist and upper arm, which looked fragile in his grasp. No doubt, with little effort, he could snap every bone in her body. Yet his actions were slow and deliberate as he directed her hand to him. His eyes flashed to hers, burning bright with bloodlust, as he sought out her permission.

With lips pulled tight, she gave him a curt nod.

Instantly, he lowered his mouth to the blood pooling in her hand.

It was the first time Integra had ever fed him her blood directly from the vein. Sure, she had offered him teasing droplets, but she had kept a careful distance between her skin and his mouth, which happened to house a set of very dangerous fangs. It was... different. Intimate, perhaps. Or maybe it seemed that way because Integra was so unfamiliar with any sort of intimacy. Steady pulses of pleasure reverberated from her hand and throughout her body. Vampires could control pain and pleasure when they fed - It was a survival technique that coerced their victims into complacency. Integra didn't know how she should feel about the trick being used on her. It was at least better than pain, she supposed.

He drank from her wound steadily, slowly, as though committing the taste to memory. His hands held her arm in place tightly, though not enough to be painful. The sigil on his gloves burned a bright red, and Integra understood suddenly that the archaic symbol was reacting to her blood. It was the thread that connected them together, and blood was the currency. It would be strengthened by the exchange.

Her voice was gravely as she stated, "And if you ever even think of betraying me, I will not hesitate to plunge a stake through your chest, incinerate your heart, and end this pathetic existence of yours, No-Life King. May there be no doubt about that."

His eyes opened and locked on her face. She could see the ember-like irises from within the fall of black bangs. Only an idiot mongrel would bite the hand that feeds. I may be a dog, but I'm no fool. His words, his voice, reverberated within her skull.

Integra wondered suddenly what Alicia would think of if she saw her there, feeding her pet Dracula from her hand. How appalled would her former friend be? Would she think Integra a monster? At the memory of the word, spoken condescendingly from Alicia's oft-optimistic voice, Integra's heart sank.

"That's enough, Alucard," she said, her tone betraying her and revealing too many emotions.

He parted from her and dragged his tongue over her palm to seal the wound. His saliva worked to instantly staunch the bleeding - Another unique survival trick of his kind. She clenched the hand and noted the numbness of her fingers.

Alucard straightened his spine and took in her cold demeanor that belied the emotions he had tasted on her blood. "Why do you care what the human girl thinks of you? Why does her opinion hold any weight, my master?"

Anger flashed through her blue eyes. "You read my mind!" she accused.

He tilted his head in apology, but it was anything but apologetic. "It's difficult not to when I drink from a person. Blood hides very little." He shrugged.

With a dramatic sigh, Integra fell back on the couch. The action made her feel light heated and slightly nauseous from blood loss. "I don't know, Alucard," she admitted.

He slid into the seat beside her, but said nothing. He absently dragged his tongue over red-tinted fangs.

The credits from the movie had started rolling, and Integra focused on them. "Maybe I wanted a tie to a normal life; to be an average teenager for a while and escape all this death and stress. But then that night, with Alicia, I found out... I enjoyed it. The fight, I mean. The chase and the guns the danger and... well, you killing the vampires. I thrived on it. Seeing them die brought me joy; it made me feel victorious." She opened and closed her numb hand repeatedly. "I had never thought of myself as a monster. I wear a cross, go to church, pray daily. Yet out there, violence came so easily to me. What does that make me, Alucard? Can I call myself anything other than a monster?"

His eyelids lowered as he considered it. "Sometimes, those that are called monsters are merely the ones that fight too hard to survive and defend themselves, Master. The fact that it bothers you so shows that you are not evil. It is only when you surrender to the notion that you are a monstrosity that you become exactly what they see you as... Just as I long ago accepted what I've become. Some are born with strength, but it is how you use this strength that defines you. How did you react when your uncle threatened you?"

Integra's lips moved silently as she thought about it. "I fought and I killed him," she whispered.

"Some would see that as an evil gesture, but..." He spread his fingers out before him. "He is dead and you are alive. On the other hand, some are born weak and give in to any threat, similar to your human friend. At the appearance of danger, she surrendered to it. She was prey; you are not."

With another sigh, Integra folded her legs on the couch. Her lips curled downward in defeat. "I just wanted a normal afternoon, Alucard. The universe couldn't allow me that."

"What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly."

She scoffed. "Do you propose that I'm a spider, Alucard? And what would that make you? A Son of the Dragon?"

He grinned enigmatically at the old title. "Perhaps."

Another B-rate movie had started on the tv- This one featuring Dr Frankenstein and a murder mystery.

Integra settled in against her vampire, resting in the crook of his arm. "Try anything, and I'll cut off your hand and wrap it in silver so it'll never grow back." Despite her threat, her voice was soft.

Alucard chuckled lowly and placed his lanky arm around her shoulders. "Duly noted, my master."

For once in her life, Integra allowed herself close contact with another being, even if that being were a monster in his own right. She relaxed her head against him and breathed out her contentment. His body felt warmer than usual, a testament to his recent feeding. And it seemed so...

Normal.

Just one normal movie night between them.

She grinned softly. "Thank you, Alucard."

He didn't answer, but she knew he heard her.

Aww, wasn't that sweet. I found myself focusing quite a bit on Integra in this story; who she is and what turned her into such a strong leader we see in the manga/show. I feel like a teenage Integra would have moments of weakness.

I wasn't going to do a blood-drinking scene, as I found it out of place, but then I found that I wanted to write one. So I did. Again, my own amusement.

I really enjoy writing in the Hellsing universe. I may write another one soon; we'll see.

Thanks for reading, everyone!