Hate this and I'll love you

Chapter One - Gods, Demons and Diagon Alley

I apparated to one of the many apparition sites in London, England, early in the morning, but the time difference set me back about six hours, so I decided that I could just walk to Diagon Alley as I'd just come from Headquarters in New York and needed to stretch my legs. I remember thinking that it was kind of nice to be back where I had grown up, after being away for so long. Then it started raining, so I really knew I was home. Actually it was a bit weird coming home, because it had changed so much and yet it was exactly the same, like the buildings weren't that much different or the weather, but the fashions were completely different from the early nineteen nineties. I felt a bit nostalgic.

I was pretty wet by the time I walked through the Leaky Cauldron, which hasn't changed a bit and I don't think it ever will; it kind of stands still in time. Tom was still there, the creepy man that he is, and the normal clientele of hags and odd loners were still hunched about the bar. I used my wand to dry myself and went out the back and tapped the wall and was finally in Diagon Alley.

My favourite place in the world.

So I went into Gringotts bank and exchanged my dollars (from the US) into galleons and stared in fascination at the goblins and their ridiculously long noses. Since the first time I saw one, as a naïve eleven year old, I've been unable to shake the little voice in my head that says, go on, you know you want to, pull his nose and yell, got your conk! Sometimes I'm pretty immature.

So I went back to the Leaky Cauldron and got myself a room and formulated my plan. Or rather, waited for my plan to formulate. Actually I had no idea what to do, it seemed kind of risky, trying to find Lewis, in the middle of a war. Although, it wasn't like he was important or in any place of high position, and I'd heard he was a pretty difficult person to get along with, so there would probably be no one to protect him. It's not like Voldemort takes care of his own, he couldn't care less. Death Eaters don't have friends.

So I reckoned that if I was going to even find Lewis, I would have to ask some of the more dodgier witches and wizards questions and basically submerge myself in the underworld, where all the demons and vampires hang out. Which would be fun.

So I dyed my hair black and cut it so it was spiky and applied lots of eyeliner, and pulled on my best black robes (none of my usual Muggle clothes). Pathetically clichéd, I know, because most people who are evil don't look evil, and I wasn't trying to stereotype anyone but I wasn't sure what else to do. Wow, I admitted to incompetence, and you have it in writing. Then I headed down Knockaturn Alley and into one of the shops, all in all it was a pretty surreal experience.

The shop I went into was called "Exotic Supplies" and it was full off illegal potion ingredients and worse behind the counter. If anyone from the Ministry ever had the courage/stupidity to head down Knockaturn Alley (which they wouldn't, because they'd probably be mugged or attacked - I was but I'm used to people trying to kill me) they'd have a field day.

So I started making conversation with the slimy shop owner and complimenting and flirting, which made my skin crawl and with the fumes in that shop who knows, until I got invited to a party that night at someone's house. Score. The guy was so pleased about a beautiful girl like me actually agreeing to go to a party with him he didn't realise that I walked out the door without paying for what I had picked up. Oh well, no skin off my nose.

Then I felt pretty hungry and decided that I should have a nice nutritious meal of ice cream, so I headed to Diagon Alley to the ice cream shop and ordered a huge sundae. Because I'm worth it, and you're paying for it. And then I saw him.

God, Roberts, I saw God, or at least a personification of him, and that's saying something from me since I'm an atheist. I'd no idea who he was at that point, only that I was practically drooling. Actually, he's probably not that good looking to the average person, but I'm empathic, which makes not average, not normal and he was exuding some sort of animal magnetism that I think only I picked up. I wish he had picked me up.

He was old, or at least older than me. Brown, almost grey hair, grey eyes, well over six foot and really tired looking; doesn't sound special does he? He was wearing patched robes, but he had this air of sophistication and intelligence that kind of drew me to him. I probably had a really dopey smile on my face, but it was so out of character of me to get a crush on someone in less than ten seconds, but there we go. He was carrying a package and in a rush and I honestly thought that I'd never see him again.

I went to the party. I wasn't that impressed actually, it was a Death Eater's recruitment party and there was hardly any alcohol or anyone that exciting. Just some guy who was prattling on about "The True Cause" and all the "Evil Mudbloods" and I figured that it was a waste of time.

Actually, the whole war thing was beginning to really bother me at the point. The first war was before I got my acceptance letter, since I'm an Evil Mudblood, so I knew nothing about the first war, it was before me, and in the past. Like muggle children and World War Two, I couldn't really imagine the horrors that the people then had faced.

But this kind of made me realise that it was real. It's one thing hearing rumours of trouble, it's another actually attending a Death Eater Party. It was pretty ironic really, since I'm Muggleborn and proud of it. I think I had only realised then that this was big, it was serious and it was pretty scary. Don't worry, I didn't run out like a headless chicken, I would have been dead before I hit the floor.

"…Long Live The Dark Lord!" concluded the obsessed speaker. We all murmured in reply and so the mingling began. The obsessed speaker, called MacLeod, got off his little podium and came into the crowd and started talking to people. Someone on the left of me said hello.

"Hello," I said in reply, wondering if I should indulge in the polite pleasantries or if Death Eaters were above that. I looked intensely at the man who had said hello to me, memorising his face for future reference. I think most people think that when I'm doing that I'm checking them out, because I have not yet managed to master doing it subtly. Oh well.

He was a little taller than me, utterly gorgeous, dark brown curly hair, dark and suave looking, long straight nose, clean shaven and I didn't trust him at all. You know I'm empathic, so I can read other people's emotions and whereas with the God, I could feel sensitivity and kindness oozing out of his pores, with this man, I could taste the slyness, the cunning, the will to deceive. So of course I went along with it and gave him what I hope was a seductive smile.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, his dark eyes glittering. Internally groaning at his awful line, outwardly I remained smiling, maintaining eye contact.

"Looking for a little bit of adventure. What draws you here?" I asked, evasively dodging the question. I doubt he would have responded well to the real answer, I felt violence bubbling under his placid surface. He smiled.

"Came along for the ride. MacLeod is a friend of mine," he told me. This I took that he was also a Death Eater. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

"Really? His speech was really passionate," I began, only to be interrupted by the man himself.

"You thought so? Excellent," said MacLeod, grinning. I could tell that he really believed in his cause, which was bloody scary if you think about it. MacLeod and his friend were both pretty young, late twenties and not stupid. "You thinking about joining? It would be a wise move," he told me, staring at me hard, probably to determine whether I was Death Eater quality or not.

"I'm thinking about it," I said, smiling. I was feeling pretty comfortable at this point.

"Where are my manners? My name is Alexander Hamilton," introduced the dark handsome man who I didn't trust, "and this is Rory MacLeod. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" he asked.

"Sylvia Darcy," I lied. It was an old wizarding French name that I take on occasion, mainly because Sylvia Darcy didn't exist but English people didn't know that. And plus, any excuse to practise my flawless fluent French. Hamilton, ever the charmer, took my hand and kissed it. I felt like puking on him he was so nauseating but my acting skills endeavoured me to go on.

We had a nice little conversation about Death Eaters and the like, in which I wondered aimlessly why you hadn't sent people out to stop this war. Then I wondered if you already had, because I'm at the bottom of the Agency and would probably know nothing of these matters since no one ever bothers to tell me anything.

"So how many Death Eaters are there?" I asked, genuinely curious. Hamilton smiled, mysteriously.

"We don't know. The Dark Lord keeps it a secret so we can not betray each other," he told me. "Not that we ever would," he added. My inner monologue was something like SHITTTTTT!

You see, my area of expertise is demons. All one hundred and fifty species. I loved Defence Against the Dark Arts at school, probably because I had been brought up on a diet of zombie movies and vampire movies so the stuff really appealed to me, I thought that it was really cool. Spinger Demons are not so cool when they're trying to tear your skin off so they can eat it, but as a twelve year old it totally fascinated me. It still fascinates me, actually. I love reading about demon's cultures and they're mating habits and stuff. It's pretty morbid, but you have to love what you're doing for a living otherwise it gets really boring. In England, there's not really a demon problem, they usually avoid it because in England they tend to go on big demon hunts and burn them all to ashes and demon's aren't tolerated at all. That why I went to America, because Americans totally ignore them, American muggles are the absolute stupidest people on Earth. You could present them with a Spinger Demon, which are purple and hairless and have yellow cat eyes and speak Demon, which is the ugliest language ever, and they would just be like, oh, you loser it's not Halloween yet.

Which is why I love Americans.

There actually was a point to that little rant. I'm a demon expert, and I was only put on this mission because Benjamin Holt went on holiday and I was the only one available for the job. Actually I was probably the only one stupid enough to take the job, because it was pretty dangerous. I work in a completely different department. I didn't really know what to do and was completely out of my depth.

So at this point, when I realised I couldn't just casually ask another Death Eater if they knew Lewis, I felt like crying. Well, actually I felt like hitting something really hard. A couple of idiots signed their death certificates (not literally) and became Death Eaters, but most people had come there to just keep friendly with people more powerful than themselves.

However, I did get invited back to Hamilton's flat for a nightcap. I declined, saying I had work in the morning, but promised to come to another party in two days. I managed to completely avoid the slimy man from Exotic Supplies, he was probably scared of the Death Eaters I was surrounded by, come to think of it.

So the evening wasn't a complete failure, as I had been invited to another party, and was sure to pick up some useful information. After than I headed to a non human bar that I know, that I had frequented when I was a teenager and in my rebellious mood. I didn't really feel like heading back to the Leaky Cauldron as the night was young. It was only about eleven at night, which did mean that MacLeod had talked for about two hours. I think I phased out after about ten minutes.

So I headed down to Kiddie Grinder, which didn't really grind kiddies and managed to get past the security, which was quite tight, as humans aren't generally allowed, but I have some demon friends. Most people think that all demons are evil, but not all of them are, just the majority. Like not all humans are good, there are shades of grey. Admittedly, most demons are evil and eat human body parts, but vampires drink blood and they're not all bad. I actually dated a vampire once, but the relationship sucked.

I have a couple of demon contacts at any rate, who are pretty cool. I only kill the evil ones that really do grind kiddies, but Bartholomew is a good friend to have. He's something off an authority figure and usually knows when the offending demons are hiding when I'm looking for one. I heard he was in England so I thought I'd come up and say hello.

Once I was let through, I eventually got to see the bar, which was crowded and full off vampires and weirdly coloured demons and flashing lights. I pushed myself through the crowds and ordered a fire whiskey on the rocks and conveniently forgot to pay and headed to the door in the corner which two rather burly security vampires where guarding.

"Hello boys," I said, demurely, taking a sip of my drink. "Can I come in?" I asked politely enough. One of them, who had cropped blonde hair and an earring, cracked his muscles in what I suppose was supposed to be a menacing way, and growled too. "I think you misheard me," I told them. Both of them had about a foot on me, and were twice as wide as me; I'm quite lean, so I'm sure it looked like I had a death wish. "Let me in or I break your necks," I said.

"I don't think you want to try," persuaded the vampire. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm Matthews," I told him. I'm a bit of a legend among demons, if I do say so myself. This seemed to not impress him. Obviously I'm not so well known in England, and after a mental note to myself to remedy that, I kneed the vampire where it hurts and opened the door using a bit of magic from my trusty wand and slammed the door in his face.

I was in a little dark room, full of demons playing poker. It would not have looked out of place in a Mafia film like the Godfather. Bartholomew was facing me, holding cards and smoking a cigar, a look of surprise and confusion on his slightly blue face (that's the colour they go when Matru demons like him tan, it's because that's the colour of his blood). It looked like a perfect pose, and slightly comical.

"Well, well, well, Skye Matthews has returned to England, as last," he said.

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