A/N: Answers to stuff in reviews.

Reve - It's true that I didn't know the ending of Expert yet... but that's not why I took it down. The main reason is: I like it better too! But the vK and the Alfred were pretty different in that fic than this one, and I have trouble keeping them all straight at once. So this way, I will write this story first, while these guys are fresh in my mind (I just went to Stuttgart again!) and then I'll get back to the other one and put it all up again, hopefully tighter and with edits. I tend to ramble when I write :o)

Theilian - There's more than one Florianherbert? Cool, I didn't know that. The one I've got in mind now is the current Stuttgart incarnation - Fetterle's.

SYCD - Just wanted to say thanks; you've commented on a bunch of things and I really appreciate it!

xXxSimaraxXx - Yeah I understand a bit of German. Not an enormous bit, but enough.

And now, on to the chapter!

"Well?" Alfred tried hard not to feel stupid.

Herbert tilted his head thoughtfully. "Turn."

Alfred spun, feeling even more stupid.

"Again, slower. Turn… stop!"

After a moment he peeked over his shoulder, to discover that Herbert was just grinning and enjoying the view. "Herbert!" He whirled around, hands behind him to cover up.

"What? Can I help it if your clothes finally fit you properly for a change?" Herbert beckoned the tailor close, shaking his head in disapproval. "Something is wrong with that sleeve. Too tight at the cuff. Reposition the buttons."

Alfred brought the offending sleeve to his face to study it, and tried to figure out how on earth Herbert had noticed. True, it wasn't quite as comfortable and roomy as the other wrist, but- "Whoa!"

Herbert had placed hands on his shoulders. When Alfred jumped, he withdrew them immediately. "Well take it off, darling, or how can we get it fixed? You don't want him sewing while you're wearing the thing. He'll prick you." A quirk of eyebrows, a playful pat on the arm. "And we know you don't want that."

Alfred heaved a sigh and took his jacket off, glaring at Herbert's back. Turn away while I change was the first rule he'd established, and though Herbert had so far been respecting it scrupulously, he suspected that his luck was not likely to hold forever. "All right," he grumbled. "Jacket's off. You can turn around."

Herbert looked him up and down again, more slowly. "It's good, but really, Alfred: red is your color. I wish you would believe me."

"No." Alfred stepped away. "Red was Sarah's color; I saw the dress the count had made for her, and I know what he had planned. I bet this new girl will be wearing red too, won't she? Forgive me if I don't want myself all done up like that kind of guest."

Herbert studied his fingernails and shrugged.

"Herbert… what is he going to do to her?"

A smirk. "I could demonstrate."

"Herbert. If you tell me…" he swallowed, took a moment to get up his nerve, and declared: "Then I won't tell your father that you grabbed my behind."

Herbert looked faintly puzzled. "But I didn't grab your…"

"Then it won't even be a lie, will it." He crossed his arms and tried to look firm. "Tell me, or I will get you in trouble."

Herbert narrowed his eyes a moment, then laughed. "Ooh, I like it when they turn feisty." He pranced over to a chair and sat down, throwing one leg up over the armrest. "Here: I'll tell you what Father plans to do, and then I really will grab your behind. And no one has to know."

The tailor, who had been pretending not to listen, made a sort of choking noise. Alfred tried to ignore it. "Fine. You tell me what he's planning, and then you may briefly – briefly – grab my behind. Which you have already done anyway, I might add, without asking permission. And you still haven't apologized."

"Ah yes. Sorry." Alfred had never seen anybody less repentant in his whole life. "So: what Father wants to do is have a girl for a visit so he can give her some wine."

"Some…?"

"Special wine." When Alfred still didn't get it, Herbert rolled his eyes and explained: "He's laced it with something, dear."

"Laced it? You mean with poison?"

Herbert snorted. "His blood."

"His-? But why?"

"The count's blood is addictive, darling – surely you've noticed?"

Alfred felt like he was missing something. "But I haven't been drinking the count's blood."

"Really?" Herbert seemed surprised. "I felt sure he liked you. How strange. Well, don't worry – I'm sure he'll warm up eventually, and you'll get a taste."

He made a face. "Of blood? Eugh – I don't want a taste."

"Just you wait. Oh, it is to die for, and I mean that literally. Mmm."

"Herbert, he's… your father." Alfred reminded, as gently as he could.

"So?" Herbert popped up and flounced over. "And I'll have that grab now, if you don't mind."

"Not yet," Alfred said with authority. He let his hand creep towards his neck, ready to pull out his cross necklace on a moment's notice.

Herbert stopped two paces away. "My, my. How bold we've grown."

"Yes, well, having the count breathe down your neck for weeks and weeks will do that to you." Graudally they both relaxed, and then he continued. "Now: you still haven't told me what he plans to do in the end. Bite her?"

"No, silly. No biting – it would confuse what he's trying to test."

"Test?"

"It's the wine. He wants to know what it will do to her. Give her dreams, perhaps? Make her crave?"

Before asking any more stupid questions Alfred tried to think it all through on his own. Suddenly the thought came to him, clear and certain. "If this works, he's going to send a bottle to Sarah. Right?"

Herbert gave the ceiling a wide smile. "Clever as well as bold! My prayers are answered." He faced Alfred then and all of a sudden the smile vanished. He held up a hand and gestured, without another word, for Alfred to turn around.

Fair was fair, and Alfred turned his back with a wince. "Go on."

Herbert took a grope that was long and leisurely, exploring Alfred's rear with his fingers and massaging to his heart's content. Alfred squeezed his eyes closed, hardly breathing, and tried to focus on worrying about Sarah instead of noticing that it felt good to be rubbed and patted. He wished he couldn't hear Herbert laughing softly in his ear.

"Done yet?" he asked at last, tightly. "This must be the longest grab in the history of the world."

"Maybe so." After one last little pinch Herbert stepped away. "But I'm sure we can break our record again later, if we really put our minds to it."

"Herbert." Alfred rubbed his behind himself, trying to get rid of the tingling the vampire had left. "Leave me alone."

Hands raised, the very soul of harmlessness, Herbert backed away sighing, "Fine, fine." He paused by the (scandalized) tailor to check a few last details, then bowed. "See you at our dinner, Alfred. I look forward to it."

Only once he was gone did it occur to Alfred that he should have said: I'd rather look forward to you than have you behind me, and he vowed to have that line – plus others – ready for next time. You had to be prepared with these people, that's all. He was learning.

TBC.

I don't know where this chapter came from – I hadn't intended to include any Herbert/Alfred at all. But I wanted Alfred to know what the count is up to. And I love that the vamps are bored enough to come up with nutty and elaborate methods of seducing mortals they're not allowed to visit or speak to. Or in Herbert's case, touch.