Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.

Chapter 4

Ashton blinked slightly before a vicious grin overtook his face. It was some rogue vampires that had been murdering people for quite some time now. He could not wait, to be perfectly honest. He was ridiculously tense, and tired as he may be, he never was one to turn down a fight. He actually laughed, and then he muttered, "I do so hope that neither of you three are squeamish."

With that he crouched down and began to stalk the insane creatures. He looked disturbingly like a vampire stalking his prey, and the thought made Jean-Claude lick his lips slightly in desire. Thankfully the vampires didn't notice until he got close enough to slam his dagger through the first one's chest, then he actually did a back flip. Incorporating gymnastics into his fights were half the fun.

His daggers were his favorite weapons, but not the only ones that he used, and they were completely normal unless you counted the runes on them to make sure they stayed sharp, never rusted, and always came when he called for them. Generally, when he actually went Hunting, he would take potions and a helluva lot more weapons. Especially Gryffindor's Sword. Which, admittedly, he had stolen from the Headmaster's office before he had left.

Asher and Jean Claude both arched an eyebrow in surprise at the move. It was one that most humans would never be able to do, and it began to raise questions in their minds that they desperately wanted answers for.

"Huh," Edward muttered, "Explains how he survived the training."

"Not nearly hun," Ashton called back, enjoyment clear in his voice. "I'm just that damn good."

With that Ashton had to focus more on the fight, twisting in an amazing acrobatic move to avoid having his throat torn out. He almost giggled, but managed to avoid the unmanly gesture by the skin of his teeth.

It had been so long since he had actually had a decent fight. The irony of the last decent fight he had had also been with a vampire didn't escape his notice, but he had to admit, he was the best of the Werewolf Assassin's, and they were some of the best fighters in the world. It stood to reason that something with reflexes and strength above his own would be the only thing that could pose a challenge to him.

Amusingly enough, he had lost only three fights in his history as an Assassin, and all of them had been to the same person. Asher.

That was the only name he had given before he had attacked, and, surprisingly enough, he had not attacked again and again. Only thrice, but it was enough to curb Ashton's ego, which had been getting rather large. It had deflated quite a bit in the wake of his three defeats, and just in time for the last fight against Voldemort.

He had never been attacked a fourth time, which had always relieved him greatly. He never did know who it was, but he was sure that it wasn't the vampire companion of the Master of the City, as they had looked quite different. His Asher had been black for starters. He was actually fairly certain that his Asher had been a part of the Council, but he would never know for sure. As a human (To the best of the Council's knowledge, anyway) he wasn't privy to such information.

That was why he never got a large ego in later years. He had always been afraid that the vampire would finally kill him. The burning pain in his shoulder broke him out of his reminiscing and he cursed himself and the vampire quite loudly.

He had known better than to let himself get distracted. He was getting rusty. His mood blackened in fury when he realized that, although he managed to keep his face in a mask of pure enjoyment, and he quickly twisted under the vampire's arms, and even as they closed around him, he shoved his dagger through the chest.

He frowned slightly as he wandered back to the group waiting for him. His Master would've slaughtered him for his shoddy showing out there, not to mention his getting distracted.

He actually winced at the thought of what his Master would've done to him. Jean Claude, however, took his wince to mean that the now numb wound was paining him, and said, "Mon petite Loup, we simply must get your wound cleaned and bandaged."

Ashton blinked, coming out of his thoughts and, even while scolding himself for allowing himself to get distracted again, said, "If you insist. It's not really bothering me though." And it really wasn't, although he was feeling it more than he would have three years ago. Not only was he getting rusty, he was getting old as well, and he didn't like it.

"I insist, even if Mon Ami does not." Yeah, you guessed it, Asher had finally decided to contribute to the discussion. Ashton's smile sharpened and he murmured, "And I certainly cannot say no to you, now can I?" No one else would get it, but to deny such a thing would be a massive insult.

Edward was looking between the two of them with a blank look, said look informing them that he thought that they were acting ridiculous. Ashton shot him a sharp smile before he walked a bit faster to catch up with the two vampires. Edward, despite what people thought, was simply human, and he didn't need to know about the silent politics of Vampire company.

As they got to where they had all parked, Asher grabbed his arm when he attempted to go to his own car. "We will have someone pick up your car so you can go home in the morning, but for now, you are coming with us."

Ashton looked at them sharply before sighing and allowing himself to be lead to the car, smirking tiredly when they looked at him questioningly when they were all settled. "I'm too tired to fight with you." The silent 'for now' echoed within the car.