Hello! I'm back! Now, in response to your reviews:
Paula: I thank you for the review, but did you have to post it six times, if it was a glitch I understand and I apologise if I was rude.
AutumnBaby: My first reviewer! Thank you, and I'm glad you like it!
Fallen Dragon: Thank you and here's your update
Kyer: I'm pretty sure that Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Slightly-Sarcastic will show up in the next chapter, if not, then the chap after that.
WolfLady: Thanks for the review and I'll post as soon as inspiration strikes... evil plot bunnies, they all run away when I want them around... grr...
EyeintheSky: You had to ask that question didn't you? Well, Harry and Helios are... the same person essentially. Harry picks up alot of Helios' tendencies and there are times when Helios comes out as a separate entity entirely, mainly times when Harry is under great stress or is pressured into doing something he doesn't want to or other times when his emotional levels are high. Does that answer your question? If not, e-mail me and we'll discuss it at greater length.
ScreamsofSilece: Thank you!
So, there are answers to your reviews, and keep reading!
Blood flashed before his eyes, a spatter of it on the ground at his feet, the dark stain spreading rapidly. His nose curled, "Remove the body." He said, it was a quiet command, but carried out immediately nonetheless. He sat, the chair beneath his arse was cold and hard and damn uncomfortable, but he sat in it with pride, the first to do so, the first to civilise the world such so that he may do so, therefore it was his chair to sit in, none others. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone would, or could, take it from him, he was immortal, forever in the strictest sense, a vampyr, the few the proud, or so the saying goes, there were only four of his kind, for now at least, if Damon kept up his feckless experiments then there might be more, idiot. Helios sighed, his bright green eyes sweeping the chamber, his sharp gaze met nothing out of the ordinary, pity, he could use a good spot of entertainment, some bloodshed, a little violence, a pretty boy, perhaps an educated man… dammit. There was just too little to do and too much time. If there was less of it… stupid notion, he tossed the thought out before it even began, cutting it down mercilessly as he had that little mongrel girl. A filthy mortal, Muggle. Disposable, to say the least, besides, she had stolen and wasn't it that Christian nonsense that said that one sin was as bad as all? Honestly, who were these people to say he was unjust, to say he was of Satan, he was Satan? He chuckled at that thought, honestly, to be that god, him, perhaps he chose as he did, but it was his choice, and they didn't have to live here if they didn't want to, they could just as easily leave if they thought him so evil.
He stood suddenly, startling his guards, good, they needed a decent scare now and then, wouldn't be any good if they weren't on their toes. He gestured for them to follow as he left, his velvet cloak flapping behind him with all of his regal intimidation. He trotted easily down the steps, a cold look on his deadly face as he walked through his city, the poor, the weak, the mortals, the muggles, the strong, the meek, the beggars, and the merchants, all stopped to move from his way as he sought his brother in the sordid masses. "Damon. Find me Damon and bring him to my quarters."
Harry sat up with a start, his heart thundering as if he'd run a mile race, or gone a thousand laps on his broom. His eyes trailed the room for his glasses, taking in the detail on the bedspread for a moment before… wait a minute… detail on a comforter? He looked down again, noticing the sewing designs that swirled around in little loop-the-loops and down, disappearing into the brightness of the room. He threw the covers off himself, glancing at the clock and sighing, it was still early, six AM, well, Aunt Petunia would be throwing food through the cat-flap on his door about now, there would be tinkering in the kitchen, Dudley moving about most likely, his fat arse rubbing the ice-box as he stood at the counter. Harry sneered at the image before throwing on his disgusting clothing (what on earth had possessed him to wear these rags?) and walked out. The Leaky Cauldron was quiet, no witches babbling, and no wizards in dark corners talking about the re-rise of the Dark Lord and the prophesy of the beloved, Boy-Who-Lived. He scoffed at the thought, if the Ministry and Dumbledore thought that they were going… oh, the old fool was dead, "Dammit, can't even curse about him to his face." He muttered irritably, walking out into Diagon Alley, a suspicious hush had befallen the streets, no one spoke to another as they walked, not even a nod of acknowledgement or a tip of the hat from one person to another. Harry huffed, stupid witches, dumb wizards, don't they know that by doing this they create their own fear, giving the red-eyed menace even more to gloat about? He huffed angrily in his head as he strolled by a pet shop a black mamba caught his eye briefly before he moved on to get the things he needed… and definitely some things he wanted. He picked at his clothing again with a direct distaste, searching for a shop that had what he needed. None came to sight in the distinctly magical shops, pity really; Muggle clothing was so much more fun than magical. He sighed, entering Madame Malkin's and browsed over the distinctly finer robes, his eyes alighting on a particularly nice set of duelling robes, done in black with emerald trim around the sleeves, the collar and around the ends. He purchased it with a small grin, as well as his Hogwarts' robes, for convenience only, of course. He went back to his room, dropping off his purchases in an undignified heap, before turning on his heel and sweeping out into Muggle London.
His eyes were drawn to a small shop, perhaps a little unsavoury for the commoner types, but definitely the style he was looking for. He strode in, perhaps a little too hesitantly for the aura he was trying to present, but this mortal body was just not cutting it. He glanced around, his eyes searching the racks for… there, perfect. "Hi, I need…"
"Oh, honey what on earth are you wearing?" The saleslady behind the desk screeched, staring blatantly at the shabby clothing that Harry wore.
"Yeah, I was hoping you could, I dunno… fix it?" Harry said, picking at the destroyed and five-sizes-too-large, apparel.
"Gorgeous, I can fix anything." The lady said, coming over to him and doing a few quick measurements, "Great, now, m'name's Betty, Mr….?"
"Potter… Harry Potter." He said hesitantly, unsure of what he should say. He wasn't Helios, not anymore, but he wasn't exactly Harry either… and he was hungry… shit.
"Here." She began shoving things in his arms before he could worry too much more. Betty led him to a changing stall and quite unceremoniously sent him sprawling into it. "And don't you dare come out before you look anything but drop-dead gorgeous!" She demanded and he could hear her rustling around for more clothing.
"Yes ma'am." He said, not really to anyone in particular, pulling a pair of pants out and sighing, this new persona was going to take some getting used to.
He exited shortly thereafter, confident in his new attire, and strutting out for Betty to see. "Well?" He asked putting on a dashing smile and polishing his nails on his tee.
"Baby, honey, darlin', if only I wasn't gay…" Betty looked him up and down, her green eyes looking at him critically, as her brown hair swayed around her face.
Harry was dressed expertly in black leather trousers, slung low on his hips, enough to see the 'V' of muscle on his waist, and a clingy blood-red tee, moulding to his Quidditch muscles like a second skin, "Look okay?" he asked, brushing his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes.
"Oh, yeah. I've taken the liberty of burning those things that you thought you were calling clothes. You will never see them again."
"Thank the gods for small miracles, hmm?" He said, impatiently swiping at his hair again.
"Look, my girlfriend, a bit down the way, she has a hair salon, you might want to…" She trailed off, looking at him, her eyebrow raised, "Just tell her Betty sent you, gorgeous." She winked and gave him a price for all the clothes he was intent on buying.
He merely grinned and handed her a wad of bills, walking out, laden heavily with packages and taking Betty's advice to get a hair-cut. He had discovered the length of his hair that morning in the mirror; he hadn't had time to look before and there weren't any mirrors on the Knight Bus. He sighed in relief as the salon came into view, he may be a vampire, but this many packages were heavy. He stumbled in, startling all of the ladies that sat in their chairs, all turning to look at him. He managed a smirk as he dropped his clothes and made his way up to the registration desk, "Could I get my hair cut? Perhaps make it look decent?" he asked sweetly as the woman gave him a critical glance.
"Betty sent you didn't she?" She asked, looking over at his bags.
"How'd you guess?"
"She always sends the poor orphans to me." She replied a similar smirk on her face as she took in his hair and new clothes.
He shrugged, "Previously poor orphan." He corrected, his eyes unconsciously darting for one exit to another, making note of them as he was led to a chair.
"Anything in particular?" She asked, holding up a pair of scissors.
"No, just make me look good." He said, relaxing.
"Awfully trusting aren't you?" She inquired, picking up a comb and trying to drag it through the tangles in his hair.
"Not really, if you make me look horrible, I'll just eat you." He said, his eyes glancing up at her in the mirror.
She chuckled heartily, "Your one of those types are you? Why do I even bother being surprised, you do shop at her store."
"Your Betty's girlfriend?"
"The one and only… at least I hope so. Suze at your service." She growled at his tangles and finally gave up with a frustrated sigh, "Get up." She demanded and he did so as she led him to a sink, "Lie down." He wrinkled his nose at being told what to do, but he complied anyway, relaxing under the soothing spray of water and strong hands massaging out the knots.
He left feeling satisfied and oddly lightened. His hair now came down slightly past his ears and fell in layers around his face. He had had red streaks put in and he wore them well with his sun-kissed skin and bright emerald eyes. Diagon Alley was bustling as usual, so he donned his duelling robes (people went out in them anyways, it didn't really matter) shrunk his packages and trunk, told Tom something unexpected came up, and left Diagon Alley for the Burrow.
Well, this is all for now, take care and await eagerly for my next chappie. later!
