This story is an accompanying fic of my story "Basilisk-Born". It can be read alone, but it contains spoilers for the main story.

Disclaimer: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…

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CHAPTER 4

ANALOGY

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1993

Eldred looked up from his notes.

"So… I think I can slowly see what it's like to be a vampire," he said cheerfully. "Your life must have been quite a good adventure."

Ana thought about it for a moment.

"Sure," he finally agreed happily. "There were some trying times, but also some quite interesting ones over my lifetime."

Eldred shook his head. "And all that just within the last hundred years or so."

Ana just hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Or so," he settled on, finally.

Eldred nodded thoughtfully, clearly having not really listened.

"And you really don't remember anything from your time before you were turned?" he asked, fixating Ana with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Ana immediately shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "But the only thing I remember flashes… like loving pastry or other little things. I mean, I know that I had a life before this, but knowing and remembering is something totally different."

"So… you don't remember anything? Nothing about your siblings? Nothing about your parents?" Eldred inquired again.

Ana thought about it, thought about his life and decided to give Eldred some truth for once. "I remember that I had siblings," he said truthfully. "A brother barely younger than me called Myrddin, a sister quite a bit younger called Perdita and three more foster brothers called Severus, Charles and Neville."

Eldred gawked.

"You had five siblings, Sanguini?" he asked, sounding as if he couldn't believe it at all.

Ana crooked his head with a frown before he decided that pouting was the right reaction. "Why don't you believe me?" he whined.

Eldred just stared at Ana.

"Muggle actually have that many children?" he asked horrified.

Ana frowned. "Some magical families have that many children, too."

"But they're the exception!"

"Who said that my family wasn't the exception?" Ana countered and Eldred nodded as if suddenly everything seemed to be logical again.

Ana mentally rolled his eyes at the man.

Magicals!

He was pretty sure that a hundred years ago, magicals had more children as well – but Eldred, who was born far later, didn't remember that and therefore thought it odd. Ana just didn't understand why the other man had a hang-up about it when they were Ana's siblings…

"My siblings all had children of their own, too!" Ana added, watching with glee when Eldred's eyes rounded again. "And some of them even had grandchildren!"

"How… how about we change the topic of discussion," Eldred finally rescued his head from exploding. "What… what about your sire? What is he like? What were your interactions like?"

Ana hummed thoughtfully.

"It was nice growing up with him," he finally said. "And a really unusual vampire."

"Oh?" Eldred perked up. "How unusual?"

Ana showed his teeth.

"Veeery unusual," he said happily. "I have to say that most of my unusualness is mostly due to my P… sire. His views are really progressive, you know?"

"Oh, I don't," Eldred said and leaned forward, clearly more and more interested. "But I'm sure you can tell me what you mean."

Ana looked at Eldred's very interested face and then around the room.

His mind went back to all the instances he met his father, all the instances he interacted with his family…

Might shock him some more, Ana decided with a splash of nasty humour.

And with that, Ana started to spin his tale, his mind returning to the past and his family…

… … …

1757 A.D.

Ana looked at the woman in front of him with disgust.

"You're… bathing in blood?" he asked and wrinkled his nose.

The woman in front of him raised a well-manicured eyebrow at his expression.

"If you took any interest in your appearance, you would do the same," she said coolly, her eyes travelling over Ana's body. Ana looked down to see what she was seeing. He guessed that his clothes were a bit worn – he could use new trousers and maybe shoes since he doubted, he could fix the seventh hole in their sole like he had done with the six previous ones – and maybe he could use a bath, but otherwise, he couldn't see why she was turning up her nose at him. Most people were worse off, after all.

"I'm not sure I can follow," he decided on.

She scoffed. "You're clearly a commoner."

Ana raised an eyebrow at that.

"Are you telling me that you think I can't understand you because of a difference in social standing?" he asked incredulously.

"Not to mention that you're a man," she immediately countered. "A woman would understand."

Ana scratched his nose.

"Well…," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe? I mean, I met Elisabeth… hmm… at least a hundred years ago, now, I think. She might have understood where you're coming from."

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Elisabeth?" she asked.

"Er…," Ana thought hard, trying to remember her name. "Ah… Báthory. Elisabeth Báthory. She was also known as the Tigress of Čachtice." Ana shrugged. "I just met her once. I can't say I regret that I never got to know her more closely. I doubt knowing her more closely would have been pleasant for me."

He hesitated.

"Well…," he added slowly. "Maybe not for me. I'm male, after all, and Elisabeth normally only got to know her female servants – at least, that's what I heard."

The other woman raised an eyebrow in interest.

"You mean, she bathed in blood as well?" she asked full of interest.

Ana hesitated.

"Weell…," he said slowly, drawing out the word. "I think that might have been only a myth. I can't say that I could see Elisabeth actually bathing in blood." He looked at the woman in front of him pointedly. "But I know that she was often spreading blood all over herself and the room whenever she… interacted with her female servants."

Well, tortured her female servants, but Ana wasn't about to give the woman in front of him ideas.

The woman hummed thoughtfully and then looked Ana up and down.

"Maybe," she suggested, "we should talk some more. I would have loved to hear more about that woman. It's a sad fact that I never knew she lived when we were both still alive."

Ana thought that it might have been good that Elisabeth Báthory had been a Hungarian aristocrat and that there had been some days of travel time between Čachtice (1) where Elisabeth Báthory had lived and Styria, which was the other woman's home.

"Well, you seem to have missed the gossip back then," he said instead.

The woman threw him an annoyed look.

For a moment, Ana wondered if she would try to add him to her bath as well, but then she seemed to catch herself.

She held out her hand, clearly expecting Ana to kiss it.

"I am Carmilla Sanguina," she saidn royally. Ana guessed that she thought herself a lady – while she most likely wasn't more than the daughter of a rich merchant or something similar.

Ana scratched his head.

"Sanguina," he repeated and mentally grimaced.

"A last name," she offered up regally. "Something that might be a foreign concept for someone like you."

Ana snorted.

Normally, he didn't bother to change his name – and normally people didn't change it for him as well, so Ana had always been Anastasius Sanguini… but with that woman being Sanguina… well, Ana didn't want her to think that they had any kind of relation.

"I'm Anastasius Malfoire," he said, borrowing one of his father's last names for himself.

Carmilla raised an eyebrow.

"Malfoire?" she asked. "Like the magical French aristocratic family?"

Ana cocked his head.

"Exactly like that," he agreed. "My father is the current Head of House."

Carmilla snorted. "He should have trained you better if that's the case," she said, looking at Ana with contempt.

Ana shrugged.

"I think he raised me quite well," he countered and then flashed his fangs. "I'm still alive, after all."

Carmilla scrunched up her nose.

"At least I know now why you don't smell appetizing to me at all," she said disgustedly.

Ana raised an eyebrow.

"Did you contemplate eating me?" he asked, just as disgusted as she had sounded.

She scoffed.

"Not anymore," she countered.

"But you contemplated it," Ana pointed out.

Carmilla scoffed. "And I'm regretting it already."

"I can understand that," Ana agreed. "I would have regretted it, too, if I were you. Honestly? It's an embarrassment for vampires everywhere that you went and just thought about it! I mean, I knew you were a vampire the moment I saw you! How embarrassing that you can't do the same!"

Carmilla glared.

Ana grinned.

He was sure it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

"Pater!"

Sal stopped in the street and looked at his son with a raised eyebrow.

Ana stopped, his face turning as innocent as he could look.

Sal snorted.

"I think that innocent look comes way too late," he said, sounding amused. "What did I hear about the Immortal confronting and finally stopping Lady Carmilla Sanguina, the Bloody?"

Ana blinked.

"I didn't confront anyone," he said innocently. "Carmilla and I just talked a bit."

"Talked," Sal repeated amused.

"Nothing more," Ana immediately agreed.

"I heard you had an argument," his father countered.

Ana hummed.

"Might have," he finally admitted. "But just a little one about fashion."

"Fashion – you?"

"Weeell," Ana said slowly. "She wanted to argue fashion. I just listened."

"Doesn't sound like much of an argument, then," his father pointed out.

Ana hummed.

"Might have been some arguing about blood and bathing habits added in there, too," he said thoughtfully and then grimaced. "I mean… what vampire goes and bathes in blood?! That's like bathing in your food! Just… ew!"

Sal snorted.

"I think someone forgot to tell her that you don't play with your food," he said and then reached out towards his son to ruffle his hair. "Thankfully, you learned that quite well when you were little."

Ana pouted.

"Not funny, Pater!"

"Considering that you've managed to end up with your argument resounding throughout the land, I think it clearly is."

Ana stepped forward and buried his face in his father's shoulder.

"Stop mocking me, Pater!" he whined. "It's not my fault that people can be that gross! I mean… who by wind and fire talks about stuff like that in a civilised company?"

"Everyone – even if it's in the dark corners out of sight," his father immediately countered. "That's what a civilised society is all about, after all. Everything that doesn't fit is banned in the dark corners – and then it's ensured that everyone has time to go there and get that knowledge anyway."

Ana groaned.

"I hate civilized society," he declared.

"It wouldn't be better without it, too," Sal countered. "The only difference would be that it would be openly talked about – and not just in the dark corners."

"Pa-ter!" Ana whined. "Not helping!"

Sadly, the rumours that the Immortal had come by and stopped Lady Carmilla the Bloody wouldn't stop – worse yet, they grew when it came out that Carmilla had died without explanation just a few days after Ana had visited her.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

My friend Sanguini spoke a lot about some vampire legends. While we wizards and even the muggles have stories about Vlad Drakul, also known as Dracula, not a lot has been told about Lady Carmilla Sanguina, the Bloody – no relation to my friend.

Vampires usually lose their human names when they are changed. There even exists an unspoken vampire custom of naming yourself after blood or something similar. A lot of things that we link to vampires are often those things they name themselves after.

(Excerpt from 'Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires' by Eldred Worple)

… … … … … … … … … … … …

1854 A.D.

This time around, Ana had decided that a small ocean between him and the Isles was a good idea. Over the last century he had been chasing all over Europe, always visiting people and looking for new sights. Now, he was walking through a market in Ireland, when he first heard the woman talking to one of the merchants across the market.

"He's been ill since he was really little," she said and there was concern in her voice. "Nothing seems to help him. We went to every doctor we found, and yet, the illness persists."

She sounded exhausted and resigned, but Ana would have ignored her if she hadn't said her next sentences.

"It's odd," she said. "He's so weak, meanwhile! He can't stand nor walk anymore… Not to mention that it's like his skin is scaly and he seems to burn from the inside!"

That actually managed to peak Ana's interest. While he wasn't a healer like Pater, he still knew a lot about healing and illnesses thanks to growing up with a healer and the woman's description sounded like something he knew shouldn't be part of the non-magical world.

Dragon Pox.

He casually swept an apple from the stand he was looking at, hiding it beneath his clothing before the merchant even thought to look in Ana's direction and then turned and ambled up to the woman.

"Pardon me, Madam," he said. "I couldn't help but overhear your discussion."

He could see the distrust in the woman's eyes, so he kept his posture as non threatening as he could.

Casually, as if he didn't have a care in the world, he pulled out the apple and bit into it.

"The illness you described," Ana said, after swallowing his first bite. "It sounds like one I came across before in my travels."

The woman frowned.

"And I guess, good man, that you have – by chance – just the right tincture with you right now," she said and Ana didn't need his vampire hearing to know that she expected him to be a charlatan.

"No," Ana said, unbothered by her distrust. "I would have to take a look at the child first to determine if it is the illness I think it might be."

His Pater would kill him if he handed out potions to a woman just in case it was a magical malady mundanes knew nothing about. Not to mention what his Pater would do if Ana handed out cures without even taking a look at the patient…

No.

Ana knew better than that.

"And if it is what you suspect, you have the cure?" The woman asked, her eyes still narrowed in distrust.

Ana shrugged.

"No," he said. "But if it is what I think it is, I know how to make it."

When her eyes just narrowed further, Ana raised both of his hands – one full of a half-eaten apple.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I'm not a healer, doctor or whatever. My father is, though, and I learned some stuff from him."

At that, the woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Like curing this particular uncommon illness?" she asked and he could see that she didn't yet believe him.

Ana shrugged.

"I didn't grow up around here," he said truthfully. "And where I did, the illness I think it might be wasn't really that uncommon."

He raised his hand to scratch his head and barely remembered the apple in it.

So, instead, he took another bite.

"Look," he said after he had swallowed again. "I could take a look, and if it is what I think it is, I could try the cure I know. If it works, we can discuss payment, if it doesn't, well… no harm no fool and all that."

For a moment, the woman scrutinized him, but it seemed that his offer made her think.

"So… if it doesn't work," she finally asked, "we won't have to pay?"

Ana calculated the possible ingredients he might need, then thought about the money he had, before he finally determined that his Pater wouldn't say anything if Ana went and took some money from his vault if the unlikely scenario that Ana ran into monetary trouble happened and nodded.

"Sure," he agreed. "As long as you will accept that I might say I was wrong and it isn't what I thought it was and there is nothing I can do."

The woman looked at him sharply, but his words seemed to calm her.

"Then we have a deal," she agreed and held out her hand for Ana to clasp and for her to introduce herself and seal the deal. "I'm Charlotte Blake Thornley."

"Anastasius Sanguini," Ana replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam."

So, instead of doing nothing or something else, Ana followed Madam Blake Thornley home.

"Like a lost puppy," Ana thought amused when he stepped into the well-cared home of the madam.

"Follow me," she said and set down her purchases on the counter of the kitchen before greeting her husband in the living room and then leading Ana up the stairs to the bedrooms.

She opened one of the rooms and Ana grimaced at the smell of sickness that wafted out of it.

He hesitated for a moment, before he steeled himself and stepped through the door with a discreet bubble-head charm around his head. While he was most likely immune to a common non-magical illness, he wasn't willing to take the chances – and if it was a magical illness… well, he definitely didn't want to take those chances.

"This is my son, Abraham," she said and he looked at the child.

The boy looked to be between five and seven, so most likely about the age when children of families of higher standing like this one, started their schooling. He was sickly pale, and what Ana could see from his skin, looked scaly and clammy.

"Abraham," Ana said with a frown. "Isn't that your husband's name?"

He was sure it was her husband's name.

She looked at him in amusement.

"My son looked so much like my husband when he was born that we decided to call him Abraham, too," she said amused.

Ana opened his mouth to ask 'why' and then thought better of it.

"Huh," he said instead. "Alright."

Then he turned towards the boy who was looking at him with feverish looking eyes.

"Can you open your mouth for me and breathe on me?" Ana asked the boy and leaned closer. It wasn't a method he was very fond of. Being breathed upon by someone who might not even know to clean their teeth was never pleasant, but Ana had learned some techniques from his Pater and thankfully he didn't have to smell the air that came out of the boy's mouth in this case.

The boy frowned at him, but nodded and sat up a bit to do just that.

Ana concentrated.

For a moment, he thought he had gotten it wrong, but then he could see a slight glow in the pharynx.

"Take a deep breath and do it again," Ana instructed. "Give it your all."

This time, the pharynx was definitely glowing.

Ana nodded to himself and straightened up.

"Alright," he said. "Sit up and lean a bit forward and then take deep breaths – as deep as you can until I say you can stop."

He leaned closer to the boy's back, grimacing at the sweat-soaked shirt brushing his cheek and ear, because 'eww' and then forced himself to listen to the boy's lungs.

There was definitely something rattling in there.

Ana sighed.

"You can stop," he said and straightened again, just to hold out his hands to the boy. "Give me your hands."

The boy's hands, as expected, were dry, clammy and adorned with hard patches that looked like scales.

Ana nodded to himself and stepped back from the boy to look at the mother before rubbing his ear and cheek. It felt as if he still could feel the grime and sweat of the boy's back there.

Eww.

"It's definitely what I thought it might be," he said instead of voicing his disgust. "I can bre… er… distil the tincture to heal him, but it will take a few days and I will have to get some ingredients first."

For a moment, he hesitated and looked around the room.

His Pater would kill him if he left the child the way he was.

"Meanwhile, you need to open his windows," he said. "He should also take a warm bath and get some freshly laundered clothing and bedding."

That… should help a bit already.

The woman looked thoughtful, but in the end nodded, clearly not too bothered by Ana's suggestions. But then, he guessed that those suggestions didn't cost her anything but time and a bit of work.

"Take care that he isn't exposed to the wind from outside too much," Ana added. Pneumonia on top of Dragon Pox would definitely kill the child. "But otherwise, a bit of sun might help him, too."

Especially if that sun came with the child being out of a room smelling of sickness…

Ana banished that thought.

"I will have to go out and hunt for ingredients," he said and mentally tried to pinpoint the nearest magical market around this place. He mentally sighed when the closest one he could think of was Dublin… which was basically on the other side of the country.

Well, needs must and all that – it seemed as if Ana was going to apparate… something he really didn't care for.

"So… you can heal him?" the mother asked, her eyes on her son.

Ana grimaced.

"Most likely," he agreed. "You have to understand that this illness is usually deadly after a certain point. That your son is still alive and more or less hale after all this time… well, it speaks a lot about his will to live. I can't promise that it isn't too late – but I can promise that I will try my best. The rest, sadly, is up to your son…"

"And God," the mother added with a sigh. "I understand. Thank you for your candidness."

Ana inclined his head and then turned to leave the room.

"I will need a few days to gather what I need and to br… distil the tincture," he said. "I will come by in about a week's time to administer the first dose. If it works, he will have to take the tincture for at least half a year or year every other week."

At that Charlotte Blake Thornley grimaced but nodded. "If it will help him, we will pay you for it," she agreed.

"He should show signs of him feeling better within the first twenty-four hours," Ana promised. "If he doesn't, I will have to contact my father and ask him to consult. He'd know if there are variations of the illness out there that I don't know about and that need a different approach."

The mother nodded in acceptance. It seemed that over the last half an hour interacting with Ana, she had decided that he was genuine in his actions and therefore took his words with less distrust than she had before.

The next week, Ana spent hunting down ingredients and brewing – not two of his favourite activities in the world, but two he had been well acquainted with since early childhood.

Administering the potion – well, tincture for the family – was a thing of a few seconds. It had to be orally given, and the boy had swallowed with barely a grimace for the taste.

Within minutes, Ana could already see the first changes. The boy moved a bit less stiffly and seemed to be a bit more clear-headed.

After twenty-four hours, the child was out of bed and in the garden, free of fever and quite lively.

"Thank you," his mother said, looking at the child. "I would have never thought to see him so alive."

Ana inclined his head.

"He will still have to take the tincture for at least another half a year – a year if it's bad," he said. "As long as he has those scaly patches, he's not yet fully cured. If you stop giving him the tincture, he will end up back in bed as sick as before."

The woman nodded in understanding.

"Nevertheless," she said. "I thought that he would never be up for going to school – and now it seems to be a possibility, even if we might have to wait for him to attend a year longer than usual."

"If he improves the way he did over the last day, he can attend in a few weeks' time," Ana countered. "He's not infectious." Especially not for normal muggles and not squibs like the family seemed to be at least partly. "He just needs to take it easy over the next half a year to a year. Afterwards, he should be like any other child."

Charlotte Blake Thornley nodded and then hesitated. "Will… will you stay? For the tincture? And to look after him?"

Ana mentally resigned himself to being a babysitter for at least six months, sighed and then nodded.

"Yes," he agreed. "I will stay at least until little Bram is healed."

The mother threw Ana an amused look.

"His name is Abraham," she corrected.

"Abraham is your husband," Ana countered. "Besides, I think Bram fit the boy just fine!"

His mother snickered.

"I think you will have to convince Abraham of that if you really want to call him Bram," she countered.

Ana grinned and took that as a challenge.

When he left – a decade later than the estimate of a year – not only did little Abraham listen to and use 'Bram' as his name, he had also been introduced to some 'mythical' stories from all over Europe.

"Ana… did you really have to tell that child all those decades ago all those stories?"

Ana pouted.

"But they're legends! Why shouldn't I have told him legends, Pater?"

His father raised an unimpressed eyebrow and then lifted the book in his hands.

"Because he was an easy to impress child and you an adult who should have steered clear of even mentioning the… supernatural?" Sal countered.

Ana looked at him pleadingly.

"But… I just told him some stories about Wallachia," he said. "It's not my fault that he kept them in mind for decades!"

"Wallachia…"

"Yes," Ana agreed and then hesitatingly added. "Well, and Vlad. But… you know how it is, I can't talk about Wallachia without mentioning old Vladdy and his interesting ways to, well, rule as a voivode."

"Voivode… you mean a duke or prince?" his father asked with a sigh.

"Yeah, well, that's what he was!" Ana said. "And honestly, Vladdy Junior was far less entertaining than Vladdy himself."

Sal raised an eyebrow. "As far as I remember, Count Vlad Drakul and you didn't get along… and his son, now known as Vlad the Impaler, and you got along even less!"

Ana pouted.

"Well, they were both a stick in the mud when it came to being a vampire," he countered. "No fun at all. All about spreading terror and all that… I mean – just look at Vladdy Junior! If someone just said something he didn't like, said someone ended up staked or burned or hanged!"

Ana grimaced.

"I think I remember an incident with gypsies and a protest that hanging them was illegal – so he went and cooked them and then forced their kinsmen to eat them or some such!" Ana shuddered in disgust. "I think even the Ottoman sultan Mehmed was afraid of him – and that man was the Conqueror of Constantinople!"

Sal hummed.

"I remember the horror stories of forests of stakes from that time," Sal said. "Those stories about Vlad Țepeș from that time. I still can't believe you went there and angered him."

He threw his son a disapproving look.

Ana whistled innocently.

"I just came by because I heard that he was a vampire like me!" he defended himself and then pouted. "But he was totally different than I expected. Really! He was so not my kind of person! And his father wasn't that much better…"

"I'm pretty sure you had more to do with Țepeș than Vlad Drakul," Sal countered.

Ana shrugged.

"But I met them both… well, not at once, though. I think I've never seen them in a room together, actually. Anyway, they were both a bit… of a twat. So, are you really surprised that I had a spat or two with them? That doesn't mean that I didn't get along with them… well, some of the time."

Sal rolled his eyes fondly.

"Pretty sure it was more than a spat or two," he countered.

Ana stuck out his tongue and Sal snorted before turning serious again.

"So… the reason why you told the child about them?" he asked.

"Er… because I had to talk to him about something and I remembered Wallachia?" Ana finally offered with a thoughtful expression.

Sal just buried his head in his hands – one of them still holding the book.

"So… the reason for this book?"

"Was not my fault!" Ana immediately objected. "Our conversations happened decades ago!"

"And you haven't had any contact since then?"

The vampire stubbornly ignored that question.

Sal snorted and then looked at the book in his hands.

'Bram Stoker – Dracula' was written on the cover.

He rolled his eyes and threw the book at his vampire son.

"Don't get caught, you troublemaker," he said amused and reached out to ruffle his son's hair. "And next time, don't bring up your frenemies in your letters to mundanes."

Ana pouted, in his hands the book he had caught.

"Why did you have to go to the mundane world and see this?" he lamented. "I bet, the whole thing would have been forgotten in a decade or two!"

Sal laughed.

"I fear, my dear Ana, even I, as a child, heard about it – and my guardians tried to keep everything supernatural far away from my ears out of fear of me, understanding that I am magical," he countered and ruffled his son's hair. "No, son, Dracula by Bram Stoker will be a hype that won't be forgotten any time soon."

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Vampires have no progeny. They also don't have patience to deal with children. My friend Sanguini told me that the worst thing you can do to a vampire is give them a child to look after. They are no parent material. There is a reason why most vampires are turned only when they are adults.

(Excerpt from 'Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires' by Eldred Worple)

… … … … … … … … … … … …

1981 A.D.

Ana stared at the tiny monster in his arms and then looked up at the woman in front of him.

"Are… are you sure you want to hand her to me?" he asked cautiously. "I mean… I have no idea what to do with…" He gestured at the bundle in his arms.

"With a child?" the woman asked amused.

Ana nodded.

"Didn't you say that you had siblings?" the woman countered.

Ana frowned.

"Yeah, well… but only Perdita was small enough that I had to hold her like that," he said. "The others came into the family as nearly fully formed beings."

When the woman raised an eyebrow at that exclamation, Ana elaborated.

"They were already older when Pater adopted them."

"And your siblings' children?" the woman countered.

"That's been ages away," Ana said with a pout.

"Well, you will learn," the woman decided and then smiled at the bundle in Ana's arms. "You're the godfather, after all."

Ana yelped.

"You want to make me godfather? Are you sure that you want me to be godfather, Pandora?" he asked, half-shocked, half-awed.

Pandora just waved it off.

"Don't worry about it, Ana," she said. "She's a Lovegood and an Ollivander – she'd be seen as weird, no matter who else has their hand in raising her. You will help raise her, I hope?"

Ana frowned.

"You're my current best friend, Pandora," he countered. "And she's my goddaughter. Of course, I will help raise her!"

"Good."

Then Pandora smiled.

"Meet your goddaughter then," she said. "Her name is Luna."

"Luna Anastasia," her husband added, looking first at his wife and then at Ana.

Ana gulped.

"Luna Anastasia Helena," he said and the parents beamed at him.

"Welcome to the world, Luna Anastasia Helena Lovegood," Pandora said and reached for the baby in Ana's arms, now that the naming ceremony of the child had been completed.

Ana handed her over, his eyes still trained on that tuft of white-blond hair he could see sticking out of the blankets.

"What if I do it wrong?" he wanted to know, a bit afraid of the responsibility he had taken just now.

"You can't do it wrong," Pandora's husband immediately countered. "You've been a very good friend of my wife for a few years now and we know you. If you teach her to be just half the person you are, then she will be a queen among men."

"Or at least a king's advisor," Pandora added amusedly and kissed her daughter's head.

Ana snorted.

"You'd have to talk Pater into taking Britain's throne for her to be able to become a king's advisor," he said amused.

Pandora smiled.

"Something to consider for the future then," she joked.

Ana looked at the child in her arms again.

"Don't worry," he swore her. "I will help you raise her into the best being she could ever be!"

And Ana would keep to his oath – even when Pandora died in an accident nine years later.

"Pater!"

"Hello, Ana, childe."

Ana frowned at his father.

"You look dead on your feet, Pater," he said with a frown.

"I am dead on my feet," Sal agreed and didn't object when Ana slung his arms around his neck. "I have a lot to do right now."

Ana frowned.

"Did you hear that Pandora has had her child?" he asked when he saw in his father's face that the other one wouldn't elaborate.

"I saw her last week," his father agreed. "Congratulations to you, too, godfather."

Ana ducked his head.

"I'm going to raise her into a hellion," he declared.

Sal snorted.

"I doubt it," he countered. "You didn't do that with your sister, I doubt you'll do it with your goddaughter."

Ana pouted.

"You mean I can't do it?" he asked.

"I think that I managed to infect you with enough cunning that you will raise her in a way that nobody will know she's a hellion until it's way too late," his father countered.

Ana thought about that.

"You might be right," he finally agreed happily. "But that doesn't mean that she's not going to be a hellion!"

Sal snorted.

"Let's hope the world is still standing when you and Pandora are done with raising that child," he agreed amused. "She's looking like a troublemaker already – and you two will only help her to cause trouble instead of cautioning her against it."

Ana looked at his father innocently. "Like you did with me?"

Sal opened his mouth, stopped, thought about it and then closed it again to pinch his nose.

"I think I did something wrong while raising you," he finally declared.

"Why? Because you helped me to cause trouble, too?"

"I at least didn't caution you enough against it, it seems," Sal answered dryly.

Ana pouted.

"Are you saying you regret how you raised me?"

For a moment, silence spread between them, then the father snorted in amusement, reached for his son's head and kissed his forehead.

"I regret nothing."

And no matter what happened, Sal would stand by that fact.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

While vampires have the ability to learn and mentally grow with age, fact is that they are still guided by their instincts. Unlike us 'mortals' their base instincts are a lot stronger and a lot harder to ignore. That is one reason why there have been quite a few vampire attacks over the centuries. Vampires have a strong fight-or-flight instinct which ensures that they often end up attacking when they feel just slightly threatened.

(Excerpt from 'Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires' by Eldred Worple)

… … … … … … … … … … … …

1984 A.D.

"Hermione!"

Ana stopped when he heard that call. He was currently on babysitting duty and had decided to bring his goddaughter – his current best friend Pandora Lovegood's daughter – Luna into the muggle world.

Now, having found a playground, he was confronted with a name that reminded him a bit of the man he met ages ago and the play the man had written. Through the play, named "The Winter's Tale", it also reminded him of his little sister Perdita.

"Huh," he said and looked at the woman who was frowning at a little girl sitting near the swings. "Are you a fan of Shakespeare?"

The woman started and turned to look at him.

"Oh!" she said, first looking at Ana, then at Luna who was currently in the process of burying Ana in the sand. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there! I definitely didn't want to yell in your ear!"

Ana waved it off with his only free hand.

"That's fine," he said while he watched Luna who was adding sand to his chest. "I'm a bit too low for you to yell into my ear anyway."

The woman looked first at Ana, then at Luna and then snorted.

"It looks like you should try to defend yourself from your daughter before she makes the playground your burial site," she commented.

Ana blinked before he looked at the little girl nearly on top of him thoughtfully.

"Nah," he finally decided. "Luna wouldn't dare to bury me whole. She'll lose interest the moment she discovers some fairies in the bushes or some such."

At that, Luna peaked up.

"Fairies?" she asked and looked around.

Ana gestured towards a near-by rose-bush. "I saw some over there," he said. "They were playing catch with some spiderwicks."

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Spiderwicks?" she repeated.

Ana grinned at her innocently.

"Little green creatures who love to hide in rose-bushes and elderberries," he declared. "You don't see them if you don't believe in them."

The woman snorted amused.

"That's one way to get her to stop burying you," she said amused when Luna toddled away towards the rose-bushes.

Ana flashed her a grin and then slowly started to free himself from the sand.

"Well, I didn't fancy a graveside on a playground," he countered. "I'd get stepped on all day here."

The answer was an eye roll.

"As if that would be the only concern," the woman countered, half-amused, half-exasperated. "What would your wife say if your daughter came home alone?"

Ana blinked.

"Er… Pandora's not my wife," he said slowly. "And Luna's not my daughter…"

The woman frowned.

"I'm the godfather," Ana elaborated, and shook himself free of the rest of the sand. "Luna's mother is my best friend. She and her husband wanted an evening all by themselves so I offered to babysit."

Understanding filled the woman's eyes.

"I'd love to have something like that with my husband, too," she said with a sigh. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I love Hermione! But… sometimes, I'd love to have some adults-only time."

Ana snorted.

"Well, I'd offer to babysit, but we don't know each other," he countered.

The woman smiled and held out her hand.

"I'm Jane-Perdita Granger," she introduced herself. "But most call me Jane or Jane-Perdy."

Ana blinked.

"Jane-Perdita?"

"A naming tradition in my family, I fear," Jane-Perdita said. "My grandmother even went so far and insisted that the tradition was older than Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale."

"So, your daughter…?"

"We decided to keep with the tradition," Jane-Perdita agreed. "But then, we both liked Hermione – so it definitely wasn't a hard decision to make."

Ana hummed.

"I like your names," he said and clasped her hand. "I'm Anastasius Sanguini… but honestly? Everybody calls me Ana."

Jane-Perdita blinked.

"Ana?" she repeated. "And that doesn't sound too girly for you?"

Then she blushed.

"I'm sorry!" she added hastily. "I didn't mean it like that! It's just… I normally know that name as a girl's name!"

Ana scratched his head.

"Yeah, well," he said slowly. "I grew up being called Ana. And… well, I really don't care what people think about my name choice. I like being Ana – and I am the one who has to live with it so everybody else can stand in a corner and cry for all I care."

"Huh," Jane-Perdita said. "That sounds very reasonable. I have to say that I struggled with my name a lot more when I was young."

Ana blinked.

"Why?" he asked. "I think Perdita is a wonderful name! My sister's name was Perdita."

Jane-Perdita's eyes widened.

"Oh!" she said. "Well, that's the first time that I hear that someone else is called Perdita as well! I would love to meet her just because of that!"

Ana winced.

"My sister died some time ago," he said and scratched his head. Jane-Perdita's eyes softened in sympathy.

"I would have loved to introduce you," Ana added and looked at the woman who had his sister's eyes. It might have been centuries, but he would have recognized the similarities between Jane-Perdita, Hermione and Ana's sister Perdita everywhere. He was pretty sure that the woman and the child were Perdita's descendants.

What a humbling and at the same time wonderful thought!

"So…" Jane-Perdita said, clearly trying to distract from Ana's dead sister. "Do you have more siblings?"

Ana hummed in agreement.

"A brother," he said, conveniently forgetting to mention that his brother was dead as well. "Named Myrddin and some foster siblings, named Severus, Charles and Neville."

Jane-Perdita snorted.

"And there I thought that Hermione would have an unconventional name," she said amused.

Ana grinned.

"Unusual names are normal in my family," he said cheerfully. "My P… father's name is Salvazsahar, my grandfather was named Myrddin as well and my great-grandfather's name is Fawarx."

Jane-Perdita's eyebrows rose with every name mentioned.

"I can see why you don't care at all that your nickname could be taken for a girl's name," she said dryly. "Considering the other names in your family, 'Ana' is pretty tame."

Ana grinned.

"Well," he said. "My P-father decided to go by 'Sal' ages ago because people can't pronounce his name at all. I've heard the weirdest versions he ended up being called after introducing himself with his full name."

Jane-Perdita snickered.

"I can guess," she said amused. "Even I am not sure if I could pronounce his name that easily – and without stumbling over the syllables."

After that declaration, Ana and Jane-Perdita fell into an easy conversation until they were called out of it by a screech from their left.

Ana and Jane-Perdita turned and looked in that direction.

It was obvious that Luna was at fault.

She still had some mud in her hands, while Hermione was glaring at her fiercely, her hair covered in mud.

Ana winced.

"Oops," he said. "I should have told Luna that covering others in anything is only allowed with their permission…"

Jane-Perdita just laughed.

"Don't worry about it," she said, a bit amused. "It's just mud. Hermione will recover."

Jane-Perdita might end up right with that… but maybe, a tiny resentment stayed with Hermione even after years of not seeing or even remembering Luna. Maybe that was part of why she took some time until she started to like the other girl.

"Do you want to keep in contact?"

In the end, Ana would come by Hermione's house every once in a while, for the next two years. It was only when he left Great Britain that he stopped. He would resort to letters instead, keeping in contact with Jane-Perdita over the years – but Hermione who had no interest in hearing about her mother's friend or reading his letters, would end up forgetting him.

Well, at least until he'd end up back in her life when he followed his father into it.

"Pater!" Ana exclaimed happily and hugged his father close. "Did you know that Pandora's line is still alive?"

"Pandora's line?" his father asked, in his voice an old kind of grief at the mentioning of his daughter.

"Yes!" Ana said happily. "I met them on the playground when I was out with Luna!"

"How'd you know that they're from Pandora's line?" his father countered.

"Because the woman I met has Perdita's eyes!" Ana explained happily. "And she has Perdita's name as well! It's a naming tradition in her family – from before Shakespeare's time!"

"That doesn't have to mean anything," his father countered.

"Her daughter is also one of those with returning magic!" Ana added happily. "And… she feels like Perdita. Her magic… it's definitely similar to Perdita's."

At that, his father reached out and pulled Ana to his chest.

There was a lot that could be explained by circumstances, but if Ana said that the girl had similarities to Perdita, then Sal believed him when he said that Perdita's line was back.

"So… the mother is named Perdita as well?" he asked, releasing his son after ruffling his hair in thanks.

Ana pouted and tried to flatten his hair back into the slicked-back way he had styled it in.

"Yes," he agreed before correcting himself. "Well… Jean-Perdita, but that still counts."

"And the daughter?"

"Oh," Ana grinned. "Her name is Hermione."

His father stopped dead in his tracks.

"Her-mione?" he repeated slowly.

Ana's grin broadened.

"Hermione Jane Granger," he agreed and watched amused when his father's stunned gaze met his own. "I guess we will meet her again, soon?"

That was one way to put it.

But, in the end, it would be his father's younger self who would meet her first – without knowing that they would be less and more than best friends once upon a time in the future.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Vampires have no mirror image, which makes grooming very hard according to my friend Sanguini. Thankfully, most vampires have learned to place a low-level vampiric spell on themselves that will ensure that everybody who looks for them in a mirror, will see them where they expect them. While the spell doesn't help the vampire seeing their appearance, it will trick the mind of anybody else and ensure that vampires are able to keep the Statute intact like that.

(Excerpt from 'Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires' by Eldred Worple)

… … … … … … … … … … … …

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

… … …

Well, this was an idea I had ever since I ended

writing "Basilisk-Born". I started to write it back then, but the story grew

and grew and it took some time until I could get everything in a passable order

and actually write it down into a comprehensible story.

I hope you liked it.

Ebenbild

… … … …. … … … …

Remarks:

1757: Historical Figure. Elisabeth Báthory (1560-1614) also known as the Tigress of Čachtice was rumoured to bathe in blood but was actually a cruel woman who enjoyed torturing her female servants for fun.

Fictional character. Carmilla is based on the main character of the 1872 Gothic novella "Carmilla" by Irish author Sheridan Le Fanu, a vampire fiction predating Bram Stoker's Dracula. That novel is based on the rumours about Elisabeth Báthory. Carmilla is also a character mentioned in harrypotter-fandom-wikia under the name Carmilla Sanguina (1561-1757) who was known to bathe in the blood of her victims.

(1) Čachtice is in Slovakia, while Styria is in Austria (about a four-hours' drive by car apart.

1854: Historical figure. Abraham "Bram" Stoker (1847-1912) was known as a sickly child who was miraculously healed in time for school when he turned seven. He is the original author of the vampire gothic horror novel "Dracula"

(written 1897).

1981 A.D.: Basilisk-Born fact. Ana and Pandora Lovegood befriended each other in the first Voldemort war.

1984 A.D.: Fictional character. References Hermione Jane Granger's childhood. Also implies that Hermione is the descendant of Ana's sister Perdita.