Author's Note: Read, review, enjoy. Don't worry, I think I spy the main plot looming somewhere over the horizon…yup, there it is!

Chapter Nine: Judas Kept Excellent Company

            Albus Dumbledore walked into his apartment, undoing his coat and sliding out of his robes. There was a full moon outside and a steady chill running through the forest.  From his room, he could make out howling wolves outside and as he leaned out, he could see a larger brown male chased by a snowy white female. He smiled to himself.

            "At least Remus and Amissa are enjoying themselves." He mused, and smiled. Since Amissa had come to Hogwarts her joy had lifted the pallor of fear, and depression that loomed over the school. In recent weeks, even though something was troubling Remus, anyone who could see knew that he had come to care for Amissa very much.

            After all this time, after all the death, healing was finally coming.

Albus turned back to his armoire and dressed for bed. Removing his thick outer cloak, inner robes and other vestments he gave way to appear, as he truly was, a thin old man. The years that passed, mounted with the struggles and weight of authority had all but destroyed his body, making his eyes twinkle- not with mirth, but with tears. But he still fought, and he still lived. Nothing could take that from him.

            "You didn't check under the bed, Headmaster. There could be monsters hidden under there."      

Albus lifted his eyes, jumping slightly from the initial shock. He turned around fully, and strained to see into the dark corners of his room attempting to decipher where the woman was standing and waiting. Licking his lips, he craned his head and spoke.

"What do I have to fear?" He asked. "When I have angels watching over me."

Becka walked into the light and laughed. She was dressed in her normal cargo pants and black boots but her muddy leather coat was buttoned up to the neck. She flinched from the pale lamplight and to facilitate her, Albus turned it out. He motion to the curtain, which she pulled back. She stared at the window, and smiled at the wolves playing below. "How is my Mistress?" She asked quietly.

"Why don't you go and talk to her to find out?" Albus asked, quietly. He motioned for her to come to him and she obeyed, giving her arm to his for support. "A twenty year old feud? Certainly that is enough time."

"Twenty four years and if you ask me, I'm still getting the easy way out." She looked at Dumbledore and smirked. "It's one less Christmas present to buy."

"I never got along well with your careless persona, Erised. I hope to be given better treatment."

The woman inhaled deeply as if she were an actor shedding a character assumed for so long. She took his arm and walked him slowly to the bed. "I'll be civil if you call me by my real name."

"I thought I already was."

"My name is Becka."

"But I'm too old to remember all your alias, Ari. I hope you will forgive me."

"Fair enough, only because you're old." Erised looked at him with contained affection. She shook her head. "And I think I was just kind to another human being."

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He tilted his head. "But are you cold?"

"What a question…"

"It's just that you're shaking."

"That's not the reason." Ari sat on his bed, and unbuttoned her coat. She peeled off her shirt revealing pale skin was tinted with red from drying blood. A large bite on her neck had already clotted and blued from bruises. "This is."

Albus nodded thoughtfully and tossed her one of his white shirts that hung on her like a tunic. "What happened?"

"Isaiah. He found me out. Your gamble has failed."

"You mean the vampires will not back down?"

"How did you…" Ari shook her head. "I'm too sober for this. Yes, Isaiah said I had become tainted and wouldn't listen to me. His cockiness tells me that he believes every lie Mordred has fed him. Jackie's gone, probably dead and the Death Eaters will be kept in check by Ezra and his werewolves."

"No good news, I suppose?"

"Instead of following my instincts and joining Isaiah, I stayed with you."

"Why?"

"I was kind of hoping you could answer that, oh great and powerful Oz."
"Could it be you're finding your faith again, Angel?" Albus asked, quietly as he sat beside her.

But the angel merely laughed. "Faith is for those who have never seen their god. I was created in the reside always in the presence but chose to leave, remember?" She leaned against him. "Do you believe in God, Headmaster?" Ari swallowed, closing her eyes and letting Albus put his arms protectively around her. "Do you think he forgives?"

"I don't think it's God's forgiveness you're seeking, is it?"

"He's the only one that would forgive me." Again, she sighed and when she spoke now, her voice was breaking. "I'm tired, Albus…so very tired."

"Then rest." He said quietly. "I'll be right here, watching you." He lowered her to bed and lay down beside her. His hands found hers and clung to her chilled fingers with a fatherly love that her whole body seemed to respond to. The muscles of her back relaxed, allowing her to sleep for the first time without the help of large amounts of liquor.

Half asleep, the girl turned towards his body, eager to feel warmth and comfort without the worries of her profession. "Lie to me, Oz. Tell me what I need to hear…"

Albus took a deep breath and obeyed. "Everything is going to be okay."

Isaiah watched the small boy play the piano with the dutiful concentration of a child wanting to impress his father. Dante had been twelve when Isaiah had brought him over, and now more then twenty years later, he was still a child even though his dark green eyes gave off the promise of something more sinister lurking under the angelic façade.

Dante was wearing robes of the purest white, bringing out the dull rose of his cheeks. Frost seemed to have barely touched his features, adding a touch of pink across his cheeks and nose, and upon his forehead that melded with his curls of soft brown hair. His frame was slender but beautifully form in soft muscles that were prepared for manhood he would never achieve.  His small pale pink lips were pursed together in study as he finished the movement and looked up expectantly at the man he was told to call father.

Isaiah smiled and clapped. "Beautiful, Dante, as always."

"I thought I heard mother's voice." He asked, quietly. "She didn't come to see me."

"She was ill, but don't worry. Father has made arrangements to make sure she'll be coming home very soon."

"How soon?"

The door to the small room opened and allowed entrance for Imre and his dead Auror bodyguard. Dante made a nervous sound and slid off his seat, moving closer to Isaiah for comfort. The elder Vampire smiled and patted Dante's cheek before sending him to play with Simon in the lobby.

"You'll get your mother soon, little one. But right now, let me and 'daddy' talk." Imre watched with amusement and then shook his head. "I thought it was unwise to turn someone so young."

"He was special to me. He was in Erised's care when I took him, and that makes us family."

"How very human of you." The Auror whispered, calmly.

Isaiah looked at him. "You would know something of lingering humanity, wouldn't you slave?"

"Mind your words, Vampire. I dealt with your kind before…"

"I know. I was there the first time you should have died."

"Would you like to experience death, Nightwalker?" The Auror reared up, causing Isaiah to do the same.

"You called me for a reason, Isaiah." Imre interrupted, giving his servant a sharp look. "Want to tell me why?"

Isaiah licked his lips and shrunk back. "Michael came. She knows that Mordred has reached an alliance with Ezra and me. If I know her, she's going to go straight to Dumbledore and then to Hawke and the Dark Prince. That'll move them onto the offensive."

"This turn of events is unfortunate. I thought you said you could control her. You said that if I gave her reason to find you, she would and you would led me to her…"

"I tried but Snape's return to Hecate affected her in ways I didn't know of. Also, she's become attached to something, and will give her life for it… If left to this, Michael could become a dangerous adversary."

"You said she cared nothing for the outcome of the war."

"She doesn't. But she wants something to believe in again. She wants hope."

"Let's make sure Severus doesn't have the chance to give it to her then." Imre announced. He turned to his guardian. "Contact Mordred, tell him it's become necessary for him to accelerate his plans for the Ministry. Then, contact Ezra concerning Saint Michael…"

"Ezra? No! He almost killed her last time they met!" Isaiah said, rising from his chair.

Imre didn't even move. "I know. I was there when last they met. Daemon, tell Ezra I want Michael's wings clipped."

"Yes, my Master."

Isaiah watched Imre. "I know your kind and you care nothing for purity of blood or the balance of power. What do you seek to gain from this war?"

"What makes you think I want anything from this? I am Lord Voldemort's humble servant."

"You lie. Like Michael says, everything has a price. For all your infatuation with death, you wouldn't risk your life if you didn't have something to gain."

"And what is it you seek?"

"Simple. I want Michael. Ezra wants revenge for Elise's death and protection and power shifted back to the werewolves. The Dark Lord wants immortality, and this so called Black Prince wants his predecessor's head. But you…what do you gain from it all? What is Michael trying so hard to keep from you?"

Imre grew thoughtful, introspective before choosing his words and when he had done so, he turned to Isaiah, meeting his eyes briefly before standing with aid of his cane. "Samedi."

Author's Note Part Two: Alright since I have your attention, it's time to advertise! I'm trying to put together a little collection of short stories (we're aiming for comedy but everything is welcome) about want goes on in the 'off-hours' at 12 Grimmauld Place. It's for all those goof balls (or like in my case, closet goof balls) that figures when you put together a group over stressed, over worked people like Severus, Remus, Sirius and Kingsley madness is bound to ensue. The stories can take place at any time during book five and must involve cannon characters (sorry, no original characters please.) Let's keep it all in good, semi-clean taste. All works will be put together under the title "Confessions from 12 Grimmauld Place" and will be posted right here on FFN. Any submissions and/or questions can be sent to Erised_Hecate@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading!