Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy & Brad Fulchuk own all rights and characters of American Horror Story. All rights, characters, etc, belong to the writers, producers, and directors of The Vampire Diaries and The Originals.

Warnings: Language & slight NSFW themes towards the end.

CH. 2

Bianca sat on her bed, legs folded with Hermione perched before her.

"Okay, Hermione." She held her hands out, palms facing up. "Give me some kind of idea of what we're working with."

Hermione placed both her front paws on top of Bianca's outstretched palms and held perfectly still as she peered into her blue, slitted pupil feline eyes.

"Sweet Jesus," she whispered, seeing and hearing all that Hermione saw and heard. Twenty-five in all. Five children, and one infant. "Oh, Hermione, this won't go as smoothly as I hoped."

Hermione meowed and hopped onto Bianca's lap letting her weight anchor her.

"Well, no use in just sitting here bemoaning God's plans. I promised you dinner, didn't I?" Hermione meowed affirming. Bianca kissed the top of her head and let her jump down before she went to the bathroom to clean up a little for dinner. She unpacked her toiletries and washed her face. She decided to go ahead and put her hair in two braids. She changed out of her summer dress for a purple LSU sweatshirt with the immortal Mike the Tiger's image emblazoned across her chest, gray sweatpants, and purple fleece booties.

Bianca slipped her cellphone inside of her sweatshirt pockets and glanced at her gloves longingly, hoping that her shield was strong enough to withstand a ghostly touch.

"Let's go, baby."

Bianca let Hermione leave the room first and closed the door behind them.

As soon as she stepped into the hallway, she felt the attention of the other ghosts shift towards them. She could see them in various parts of the house, but for now, Bianca decided to adopt her most neutral look as if nothing was out of place.

Hermione paused at the closed door that held the blonde boy's spirit.

"Hermione," Bianca said sternly. "Let's go."

Hermione's ears dropped slightly as she reluctantly obeyed her. Bianca frowned and asked, "what do you thinks so fascinating in that room anyways?" Hermione's meow was not a satisfying answer. "So you say, but nothing doesn't have you purring like you're about to start rutting." The face Hermione made had her laughing into the kitchen.

Moira was not alone inside of the kitchen when they arrived. There was another redhaired woman.

Vivien Harmon, wife to Professor, no, Dr. Ben Harmon, and mother to Violet and Jeffrey Harmon. Violet was the angry brunette standing next to her mother giving Bianca the stare-glare for some reason.

"Oh, Miss, your meal is almost ready." Moira spoke a little startled with Hermione sitting on her haunches, tail swishing back and forth as she watched Violet. "Would you like me to bring it up to your room?"

Nice try. "No, we can all eat here."

Moira's hands shook almost cutting her finger off. "All?"

Bianca slow smile stretched. "Yes, all. Surely, you intend to dine with me."

Moira's relief was palpable as she said, "I thank you, miss, but it's unseemly for the owner to eat with the help."

"I disagree." She moved through the gap in between Vivien and Violet to get to the pantry. "You've been here for quite sometime, I'm sensing?"

"Yes, miss."

"Then by that reasoning, the house is more yours than mine." She found the cat food. "And besides, as much as I love my Hermione, she's not much of a conversationalist." She laughed, noting the immensely offended expression on Hermione's face. "I was worried my guys didn't deliver my supplies this week."

Moira looked thoughtful. "Yes, I was a little surprised to see them. Even more so when they mentioned the new owner's instructions."

"If you knew I was coming, why did you seem so surprised to see me today?" She pulled two martini glasses from the cupboards rinsing them swiftly.

"What surprised me is that it's only you. Usually, a house this size always go for a family." Moira began to season the two T-Bone Steaks. "You coming here alone, well, even with the low sale of the house was unexpected. How do you like your meat, miss?"

"Rare," she answered unflinchingly.

Moira blinked once and turned back to her work without a word. Bianca took a breath and rolled up her sleeves to help. She washed her hands in the sink and grabbed two baking potatoes. Working alongside Moira in near perfect synchrony brought back memories of being in the kitchen with her mama and great grandmother. She was so content in that moment she left herself forget the two Harmon women with them.

"I don't like her," Violet declared.

"Violet, you haven't known her long enough to make that decision," Vivien responded, sounding horribly exhausted.

Sneaking a glance at Moira, Bianca could see her ignoring the conversation with practiced ease.

"Getting her out quickly is what we all should focus on. Who knows what HE might do if she lingers," she scoffed bitterly.

"I thought you talked to him about her."

"I did, but we all know I'm the last person he'll listen to. If anything, I probably just made everything worse." Violet huffed, throwing her hands up. "On top of that, can't you feel how tiring it is to stay invisible for her benefit? It's making me feel like I'm going to tear my hair out at any moment!"

Bianca's guilt was immense knowing that even in wanting to help, she was causing the spirits misery.

"It won't be this way for long, sweetheart. Even if he doesn't step out of line, God willing, one of the others will, and the house will be empty again."

"Yeah, until the next set of ghost seekers arrive and we start this all over again."

"Violet," Vivien sighed, unable to comfort her daughter with her words.

"Don't worry about it, mom. Thanks for trying anyway. I'm going to go sit with Jeffrey for a while."

Bianca ignored the barely noticeable silent exchanges between Vivien and Moira to think. Violet's abject misery and anger made her a clear candidate for the force that called her all the way from New Orleans.

By the time dinner was ready there had been several spirits coming in and out to either get a closer look at Bianca or try to antagonize Moira enough to make her respond aloud to them.

There was enough malevolence in the house to keep Bianca from making the mistake of growing complacent, but a good amount of them were most mischievous than anything else.

The kitchen was empty when Bianca and Moira sat down to eat.

To Moira's surprise, Bianca bowed her head and began to pray. An even bigger surprise, her cat Hermione while not having closed her eyes, bowed her head as well.

"Amen," she whispered.

Hermione's Salmon Fancy Feast and Carnations Milk were in martini glasses as she lapped like she was dining at the captain's table.

"Hermione is remarkably well behaved," Moira commented idly.

"When she wants to be." Bianca ignored the droll look Hermione gave them as she poured herself and Moira glasses of BlackBerry Merlot. Bianca never pretended to be a wine expert and didn't give two shits to the pretentious wine connoisseurs who thought Arbor Mist wasn't a genuine brand. It didn't actually matter because there wasn't much of any alcohols or liquors that could make her feel more than a light buzz. Cutting into her steak, Bianca was pleased to see the red spill onto her plate. The meat was tender and flavorful, extremely close to her great grandmother's cooking. "This tastes so good, Moira."

"Thank you, miss." Moira's not quite smile proved that she was pleased. "Are you a college student?"

Bianca nodded. "I have two semesters left until graduation."

"Are you from Louisiana?"

Inwardly, Bianca smiled. She expected an interrogation sooner rather than later.

"My mother's line descended from Massachusetts, but she and I were both born and raised in Virginia. My father's family came from Oregon. The place never appealed much to me."

"How did you end up in New Orleans?"

Bianca smiled. "There's a family residing there that has been friends," that was one way to describe the relationship. "With mine for generations. There are five surviving children. I'm closest to the two daughters and youngest son. They convinced me to come visit one summer and I ended up enrolling at LSU." Bianca thought the story was close enough to the truth to assuage her guilt.

"I suspect that you weren't entirely truthful with me earlier, miss."

Bianca frowned worriedly. "How do you mean?"

"You said there was no significant other in your life, yet that ring on your finger is clearly a male's ring, and you're wearing it on your left fourth finger."

Bianca instinctively clenched her hand into a fist, always needing to feel it's sure weight was never gone.

The ring was old. The band was silver with the Mediterranean runes of protection and loyalty on each side while the face of the ring had the initials KW intertwined.

"You're right," she said softly. "This ring belongs to someone I love." Her eyes blurred and the familiar burn that accompanies stifling a sob irritated her throat. Hermione, sensing her mood, hopped up into her lap and pressed her paws against her chest to lick the stubborn tears that fell to spite her. Bianca pressed her forehead against Hermione's. Her whiskers wiggled purposely against her cheeks to make her laugh. "Thank you, baby."

Moira cleared her throat looking completely perturbed. "Forgive me for bringing up bad memories, miss."

Bianca took a heavy swallow of her wine when Hermione moved back to her seat. "Nothing to forgive, Moira. Thinking of him, of what we lost," she shook her head trying to shake away the memories as she dried her tears. "It always makes me act like this."

They finished dinner in an disquieting silence. Even the other ghosts had been respectful enough of her grief to stay away.

Bianca offered to help with the dishes, but Moira insisted she would do it herself. Bianca suspected the maid wanted her out of the way to talk to the other ghosts about what she learned.

Bianca grabbed the bottle and glass to take upstairs. She turned to Moira and said, "I'd like to ask you a question if I may, Moira?" She tensed, clearly expecting her to say something awful. "How would you feel about me knocking down the gazebo in the backyard and putting a pool in its place?"

Moira's wine glass shattering in the sink was all the answer she needed.

ahs~1

Hermione made herself comfortable, sprawled on Bianca's bed as she ran her bath. She filled the tub with her favorite scents and lit candles all around the bathroom opting to leave the lights out.

She sent a text to her Uncle Nik, asking to borrow his construction team for her pool project. This of course led to dozens of questions asking how her work was progressing in the Murder House and the status of her online classes at LSU.

Bianca was grateful for the family that she had left, but they could be overbearing at times.

Bianca plugged her phone to charge in one of the bathroom outlets and set her music library to play on random at a low background hum to not disturb the others.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Bianca groaned, pausing in taking off her clothes at the first all too familiar guitar strum.

Un-Break My Heart. The quintessential post breakup song.

Bianca slipped into the almost too hot water with a weary sigh. The move was almost too easy. There had been no threats or warnings of danger to come as yet. Still, Bianca knew by now to never let her guard down. The other shoe would drop in due time. It always did.

She lathered her body with her purple loofah and started on her feet and legs as Ms. Braxton blew on her chorus. Bianca cleaned between her legs carefully. She had no intentions of taking care of any personal urges that were sure to arise before she ensured her room could provide the privacy she desired. She cleaned her navel, breasts, and armpits. Once she felt her skin tingling from the beads in her body wash, Bianca took another sip of her wine. She sat it down on the floor close to the tub. She grabbed one of the wash cloths on the rack by the tub and dipped it into the water. She leaned back as she squeezed it as dry as she could. The tub was long and wide enough for her to stretch out and lay backwards and still cover her breasts. Bianca let the wash cloth lay over her eyes.

He was there when she closed her eyes like clockwork. Kit Walker and the exquisitely painful memories his name invoked. He was tired and frustrated. Coveralls greasy and his hair a mess as if he had raked his hands through it too many times. Bianca didn't need to say a word, already knowing what her man needed. She turned off the pot roast, took him by the hand, and dragged him off to the bedroom. He sat on the bed numbly while Bianca went into the bathroom to get the bath ready. She came back, easily dropping to her knees. She undid his shoes and rolled off his socks, feeling him watch her every move. She massaged his feet as he groaned when she applied just the right amount of pressure.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She spoke softly sensing just how stressed he was.

"Not yet. Just let me have this moment with you, babydoll."

"Okay."

Inside of the bathroom, they started to kiss, taking their time in removing each other's clothes. They climbed into the tub together. Bianca perched on her knees behind him, washing his hair and running her fingernails over his scalp.

"What kind of husband can I be to you if I can't even protect your name being dragged through the mud, bahydoll?"

"You can't change people's beliefs. I knew they would talk when we moved in together first." She laughed lightly. "Our enemies can't decide why they should hate us. Because a witch and a protector are together or because a white man wants to make a black woman his wife."

"The world is shit, bahydoll," he huffed, growing angry again. "I don't think I can stand it."

"Now don't say that," Bianca chided. "The world is always a beautiful place. It's the people in it that are shit."

He snickered and snorted until he was full on laughing, the sound spreading warmth inside of her chest. "How many Hail Mary's is it again for using such foul, obscene language?"

"Don't even joke about that. It's five if you let Father O'Malley tell it. I'm half expecting him to jump out of the closet and offer to pray for my heathen soul."

He laughed again, shaking his head."And they say I'm the bad influence."

"You are. The worst influence ever." She squealed when he grabbed her around the waist to sit her on his lap. "See? Just awful."

He grinned and kissed her again, letting his hands drift from her breasts to between her legs.

"I love you so damn much, baby doll." His fingers stroked her slit, deftly finding her engorging clit. "I can't wait to make you my wife."

Bianca flew over the edge, crying his name.

They hadn't gone all the way yet, because Bianca wanted to come to their bridal bed as pure as possible.

Little did she know at the time that while there would be a marriage, Bianca would never be his bride.

Bianca let the memory fade when she heard Hermione's hiss from the bedroom. She sat up, sloshing water and ripped the cloth off her eyes.

Her eyes darted wildly around the bathroom expecting to see a ghost.

There was nothing and no one there.

"Hermione, you okay, baby?"

Her cat meowed back, but she sounded agitated. Bianca pulled the drain in the tub. She climbed out shivering from the suddenly cold atmosphere. She hoped that who or whatever decided to perv on her in the bath was getting a good eyeful because it would be the last time.

She wrapped the red towel around her body and crossed the bathroom to the sink. She checked the time on her phone and was momentarily sidetracked by a text message from Queenie.

These bitches r annoying the shit out of me. Can I come visit u Murderville USA?

Bianca laughed aloud and texted back.

U sure about that? Pretty sure a ghost was just watching me take a bath!

She brushed her teeth while she waited for Queenie's response.

She spit and rinsed hearing the text alert on her phone. She glanced back at the mirror to see if there was any toothpaste residue on her face.

And that was when she saw him.

Black.

Shiny.

Rubber.

A BDSM wet dream.

But for Bianca, a source of unshakeable terror.

His eyes were a chilling, unsettling, familiar brown so dark that they almost matched the color of his suit.

Bianca felt herself sway as she was almost completely sucked into the visions of pain and hurt this rubber suited man caused.

She spun around hand raised, ready to defend herself but he was already gone.

Bianca kept looking wildly about, heart hammering too fast in her chest. She grabbed her phone reading the texts from Queenie.

For real?

R u ok?

Do you need us?

U know I'll fuck him up, B!

Bianca immediately shot one back.

I'm good. Can't talk now. Call me tomorrow.

Bianca dressed quickly, looking nowhere near as tough as she wanted in her hooded black Batman pajama onesie. It was the only way she could ensure she would be completely covered hell!

She burst through the bathroom double doors. Hermione was on the bed standing, ears flattened against her head, and growling.

Bianca matched her fierce stance and bit out, "where?"

Hermione darted off the bed and scratched at the door. Bianca opened it and followed after her cat who knew exactly where to find the Rubber Man. Fuck the gentle approach, she was going to banish his ass tonight.

Hermione led her to the same door from earlier, only this time she was in no mood to purr.

Bianca tried the handle and was unsurprised to find it locked.

She could have picked the lock like her daddy taught her, but she was too angry to bother. She flicked her wrist and muttered quietly, listening to the satisfying click. Bianca turned the doorknob. At her feet, Hermione unsheathed her claws and put her butt in the air ready to pounce and tear.

Bianca could already hear the whispers. Urging her to come inside. Urging her to avenge her dignity.

She was granted a single step forward when the knob flew from her hand and the door slammed shut, locking once again.

The dark hallway was flooded with light and Moira's angry face was thrust into her own.

"What are you doing, Miss Hopkins? I told you that this room was off limits and you have deliberately disobeyed me!"

Bianca's expression turned blank. Her mother. Her great grandmother. The mother of her matriarchial line. Her cousins, on occasions. These were the only handful of women Bianca would ever allow to raise their voices at her.

Moira O'Hara would never be one of these women.

"You seem to have forgotten your place, Ms. O'Hara. I accept that you are rooted deeply enough in this house to call it yours," Moira winced at the words and Bianca allowed herself a moment of petty satisfaction. "But please do not make the mistake of raising your voice to me. Perhaps you would do best to yell at the surprise visitor who decided to let himself into not only my bedroom, but my bathroom while I was undressed." If it were possible for a ghost's face to drain of blood, Bianca was sure that was how Moira would look.

But she didn't bother to explain or even attempt to call for security to do a sweep of the house. That moment of silence told Bianca everything she needed to know about Moira O'Hara's current loyalties.

Bianca picked up Hermione before she could turn her claws on the clearly misguided ghost and retreated back to her room completely aware of Moira watching her.

She entered her room not bothering to close the door.

The ghosts in this house were practically mocking her.

Okay.

They didn't want Bianca in their house.

Fine.

They thought they could violate her privacy and frighten her into leaving.

Fuck that.

She opened one of her three luggage bags. She didn't need to crack open her grimoire because this was a spell her mama had drilled into her head relentlessly until she knew the incantation backwards and forwards.

She drew her pentagram of protection on the wood floor and lit a candle in the center.

She closed her eyes, gathering her magic, thinking of her purpose for this spell of protection, and exactly what she needed it to do.

The Latin chants fell from her tongue as if it were her first language.

She felt the calm and silence settle in the room.

It was done.

"Just what on earth do you think you are doing?" Moira demanded, wide eyed and completely unable to cross Bianca's threshold.

"Taking care of a problem that you seem all too happy to ignore."

She stood up and checked her phone again only half listening to Moira's rants.

"...police involved if that was what you really wanted, but new owner or not, I will not stand idly by while you practice your Devil worship under this roof!"

Hermione hissed something fierce, but Bianca had this one all on her own.

"Don't you ever accuse me of worshipping that monster. I am a servant of God and His son, the Lord Jesus Christ." Bianca stopped and took a calming breath. "You want to know what I'm doing, Moira? You ask, you don't accuse me of something so disgusting ever again. Do you hear me?"

Moira's wide fearful eyes and heavy swallow as she nodded forced Bianca to acknowledge that her eyes were probably glowing. As well as levitating everything in her room and the entire house for that matter that wasn't nailed down.

She didn't flinch when the furniture fell back to the floor around the house shaking it like an earthquake.

"You...you're a-a-a witch!" She accused.

"And you're a-a-a ghost!" She fired back. "So, now that we're calling a spade a spade, care to tell me just who the hell was in that rubber suit?"

Moira's mouth snapped shut as she averted her eyes.

"That's what I thought." She rubbed her temples still feeling too angry. "Look Moira, we'll talk about everything in the morning. Right now, I'm pissed the fuck off and just might banish you all for the hell of it." The fear coming off the other ghosts should have made her feel bad, but again, she was too upset to give a shit.

"The others, now that you've said that, I fear it's not safe for you here anymore, Miss," Moira said urgently.

Bianca's hard frown softened slightly reading the sincerity in Moira's eyes.

"I'll be fine. My spell won't allow them to even hear a mouse sneeze in here, much less allow them to enter."

Moira nodded and stepped away from the door. "I am sorry, Miss. For the things I said."

"Like I said, we'll talk about everything in the morning." She was not going to accept an apology from anyone right about now.

And just to remind Moira and the others that she was not about to play their games, she snapped her fingers, magically extinguishing the candle and slamming her bedroom door shut and locked all at once.

Outside of the door, Moira felt foolish and remorseful. Her first true friend in the house, Vivien Harmon appeared.

"Moira?" Vivien touched her shoulder comfortingly. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head. "I've made a horrible mess of things."

Vivien's expression hardened. "You didn't do it alone. Come on," she sighed, steering her friend down the hall. She was supposed to be having an intimate night with Ben to reconnect again when they heard the fighting. Damn you and all of your bullshit, Tate, she thought. "I'll make us some coffee. We have a lot to discuss before morning."

Back in her room, and alone with her thoughts save for Hermione, Bianca was getting angrier and angrier.

Hermione watched her pace seeming to know what she would do before it became a fully conscious thought.

She stopped pacing as she took in the familiar surroundings.

Bianca's emotions always made it an unconscious thought to teleport. She felt at home in New Orleans again. Especially with him.

His chocolate brown eyes widened comically as he stepped out of his bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist. Bianca's lips curled at the irony of her moment of intrusion.

"Darling?" His richly accented voice sent pleasant chills coursing through her body. "Not that I'm not pleased, but what are you doing here?"

"Bad ghost confrontation," she mumbled.

He flew to her with his preternatural speed. He cupped her face and she could have sobbed right there from the comforting touch of someone real after avoiding ghostly touches for so long.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," she pressed her face against his neck inhaling the scent of ancient grimoires, grass, smoke, and blood.

It was then that he broke the moment. "Are you wearing a onesie?"

His amusement pricked her nerves. She reached under his towel taking him in hand, pleased that he was already halfway there.

"Is that enough to turn you off?"

He growled softly as she stroked him. "You need only say the words, darling, and I'll give you exactly what you want."

She bit her lip hard enough to bleed for him, moisture emerging between her legs as the schlera crawled under his eyes and his fangs lengthened.

He kissed her harshly, holding the back of her neck as his tongue plundered her mouth.

"Fuck me, Kol," she whimpered as he nipped at her throat. "Fuck me."

The onesie was on the other side of the room and she was lying naked on his bed before she could blink.

He put her thighs over his shoulders, lowering his head between them and said, "As you wish."