Title: Blasphemous Love
Series: Harry Potter
Genre: Romance / Supernatural
Summary: In a world of magical mayhem, two species have been feuding for millennia, the seraphs and the vampyres. It was never thought to happen, but what would occur if a seraph fell in love with a vampyre? Alternate universe, slash.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyright to JK Rowling.
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Chapter Two
Millennia ago, just as humans came to roam upon the earth, seraphs and vampyres didn't exist. They existed only in the imagination of people who dreamt of such imaginative creatures. Legend even describes the creation of seraphs and vampyres to have come from such minds. Whether or not the legend is fact or fiction is unknown to all, however.
Another legend describes that as time passed, certain groups of humans evolved beyond the others, into various species, what would now be known as the seraphs and vampyres. Originally, it was said that vampyres were simply people who had filed their canines down to sharp points and fed off the blood of humans. Eventually they were born with sharper teeth and had to feed on blood to survive.
The same legend stated that seraphs were never in fact angels, but the spirits of the dead whom people claimed to see. They were always described as ghostly creatures; appearing at the strangest times and saving people from themselves or even destroying people. It was never once stated that seraphs, although most living beings assumed them to be associated with a God of some form, were angelic. In fact, most were quite cruel.
As proven in the Malfoys, one of the oldest seraphic families existing.
Narcissa, although having married into the family, was from another well-known seraphic family, the Blacks. Most of the family were seraphs, though one Sirius Black had fallen from grace after being declared the godfather of a vampyre. The marriage of Narcissa and her husband Lucius brought a new marriage to the families, reuniting sects of seraphs everywhere.
Narcissa watched the rain splatter drearily against the large windows making up the wall of their penthouse living room. It was quite lovely to her, finally dragging a smile onto the beautiful woman's face. Seeing his wife smile brought a sympathetic smile to Lucius' face, although only for a second.
Silence had filled the room since Lucius' last words, broken only by the rhythm of the raindrops. Neither bothered to speak; both had been able to communicate their desires without even moving to the other. They seemed almost soul mates, if not for the fact that the marriage was arranged, and neither even loved the other. Not on the outside, at least.
---
The rain had somehow failed to touch either of the spontaneous lovers. It may have been because of an overhang somewhere, or the rain could have just been going in the opposite direction. Whatever the reason, neither Draco nor Harry was wet. The only thing wetting them was the taste of the other's saliva, and that wasn't nearly enough to soak them to the bone, the way this rain would have.
As Harry ran his hand down Draco's chest, touching just below his abdominal muscles and earned a moan and a twitch of a wing from the blond seraph, he heard something, looking up from the blond teen. Draco looked at him, slightly angered that the brunette had stopped whatever he had been doing.
"Oi! Where're you going?" He demanded, sneering slightly as Harry pushed himself off Draco without so much as something to calm the blond's racing heart. There was no response from the brunette and Harry slid off into the shadows before Draco had a chance to catch up to him. "Shit." He began hastily tucking his shirt back into his pants, pulling them up from where Harry had shoved them and doing up the fly, rebuttoning the dress shirt and straightening his hair, in case anyone came across him.
He ran down the alley Harry had turned, and glanced around for the brunette, now completely infuriated with their anticlimactic relationship. Growling beneath his breath at the sudden disappearance, Draco – in one fluid movement – turned to the nearest wall and shot a punch at it with all the force in his body. The bricks chipped with the effort and the skin upon his knuckles was torn and bloody, a warm streak of blood running down his fist.
"Shit. That vamp just ran off…" He swore, ignoring the blood on his fist. "Shit!" Extending his wings to their full length, he gave one quick beat and took off to the skies, cussing under his breath as he flew, searching high and low for any vampyre he could spot. The first he found was going to die.
Harry slipped through a shadowed doorway, making sure no one saw him. He had been fleeing Draco for an exact hour at that point, and had to make sure he had lost the seraph for sure before going to his master. Bowing deeply as he entered the room, he stepped up to the shadowed platform on which his lord sat upon.
"My lord." He bowed again, dropping to one knee and lowering his head. A raspy series of coughs greeted him from the shadows, and Harry's green eyes almost looked up to see if the older man was alright.
"I'm fine, Mr. Potter." The man stated bluntly, having read Harry's expressions easily. He coughed again, almost doubling over in the throne he lounged in. "As you know, I am currently…incomplete. As a vampyre and a being in general. Though I would never sully myself by comparing myself to mortals, you know. Of course you know that, you're my most loyal follower." A raspy cough, followed by a wicked, malicious smile shot to Harry, to which he nodded his head.
"To complete me…I'll need something of you. I wouldn't trust any others than yourself and Severus, you know. Severus is the only human I'd trust…Severus? Come here. Show yourself to Mr. Potter." From the shadows of the platform, a hook-nosed man stepped, his greasy hair falling limply with gravity as he bowed his head to the vampyre kneeling before the platform.
"Mr. Potter." He greeted plainly, his deep monotonous voice etched instantly into Harry's mind. Unlike most people, who either remembered a face or a name, Harry was different: even if he forgot a face or name, he never forgot a voice.
"Mr. Potter. As I was saying. You need to get the life's blood of a seraph for me. The filthy creature must be alive when you suck the blood from it's veins, or the potion's effect is lost. Do you understand me, Mr. Potter!" His master's voice had gone from calm to suddenly shrieking madly. Harry almost moved back a pace, but it would have shown weakness and fear; two things his master would not be pleased with.
"I understand, my lord. I know just the creature…" He purred beneath his breath, slipping away once again into the shadows and leaving Severus to take care of his poor deranged and demented master.
"Severus…" The weakened lord mumbled, his raspy voice almost a purr to Severus' loyal ears. The greasy-haired man began turning the lord's throne around, to take him back to his bed chambers, listening intently to his master's wishes. "Make sure Mr. Potter kills the seraph. And make sure that the Malfoys know I'm rising to power again. If they think they can simply slip from my grasp when they feel like it, they need to be taught to stay in line."
"Yes, my lord." Severus wheeled the throne off the shadowed platform off to the living quarters of the weathered mansion, a great serpent following along behind, hissing delightfully. The chamber was once again left dark and bleak, no one daring to enter the area without a full invitation.
---
The rain had since stopped, and Harry slid along the wall, his heavy boots silent against the stone roads of the city. The clubs were closing, for fear of a vampyre slipping in undetected and sucking the customers dry as they danced. It was shortly after midnight, the moon high in the sky, illuminating the empty municipality.
A light shone from a balcony twenty stories above, one of the few along the street. A young woman, around seventeen, leaned against the wrought iron railing, solemnly watching the stars flicker in their rightful places above her. A redheaded male, abut the same age, slid the sliding glass panel open and stepped out into the night, a mug of tea in his hands for the female.
He whispered something to her, kissed her cheek and handed her the tea. She blushed, whispered something back and accepted the tea, sipping at it as her boyfriend went back inside. She was a supernatural enthusiast, one who devoted her life to seraphs, vampyres and everything else that came with the belief of the creatures.
Harry glided up the side of the building, having both climbed the jutting bricks and the emergency escape. He'd known for years where the woman lived and had kept track of her and her boyfriend, just on the off-chance he'd need them. And of course, he finally needed them, after six years.
"Hello, miss." He greeted, flipping himself up around the balcony, landing with the elegance of a cat upon the thin railing. The woman almost screamed in fright, but caught the sound in her throat and clung to her tea. "Long time no see."
"You're…you're that vampyre! Ron! Come here!" Her eyes lit up as she remembered him, and she turned to call inside to the redhead. "Ron!" The addressed male yawned and got up from the couch, setting his tea down on the glass coffee table. He was obviously tired, anyone could see that, and as he slowly wandered to the door, he yawned. The male began to open the door, but finally looked up and saw Harry, his eyes going as wide as dinner plates.
"VAMPYRE!" He screamed, jumping back. "'Mione! Get away from that!" He shrieked, now somewhat panicked, as he threw the door open, trying to tug his girlfriend away.
"Ron, calm down. He spared us once, if he was going to kill me, he'd have done it already." She giggled. "What's your name, sir vampyre?" She asked politely. Harry smiled warmly at her, nodding his head to Ron, who was still frightened out of his wits.
"Harry. And yours, miss…" He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
"Granger. Hermione Granger. And this scaredy-cat is my boyfriend, Ronald Weasley." She giggled, pulling him over to her with one hand. Ron raised one shaking hand and waved quickly. "Won't you join us for tea, sir Harry?"
"Just Harry is fine, Miss Granger. I'd be delighted." He jumped from his spot on the railing to the balcony and followed behind the shorter girl. Ron pressed himself to the outer wall of the balcony, watching Harry intently with a protective sort of fright in his eyes. Harry didn't appear to be dangerous to him, but Ron wasn't going to drop his guard and let his life be taken from him. He especially wasn't going to let Hermione be harmed.
When the redhead entered the room, sliding the door shut behind him with a click as he locked it, he was partially surprised to see the vampyre sitting upon the couch, watching the fire dance in it's place peacefully. Hermione was in the kitchen, fixing him a cup of tea, then frowned slightly before setting the steaming cup down on a semi-warped silver tray along with a small pot of sugar.
"I wasn't sure how many lumps you wanted…" She explained, setting the tray down upon the glass coffee table. Folding her hands in anticipation, the brunette female watched Harry, biting her lip silently. Harry simply took the lid off the pot and spooned a bit of sugar into his tea, then took a smaller teaspoon and began stirring it slightly.
"Thank you, Miss Granger." He sipped at the tea silently, almost as noiselessly as he had fled from Draco. Ron slid around the edge of the room, then laced his arm about his girlfriend's waist and pulled her onto the opposite couch. From there, the two watched him, Ron still in his protective mode, Hermione in quite the opposite. The enthusiast's eyes were glittering with the excitement of having a live vampyre in her home, drinking tea with them.
A pregnant silence filled the room as Harry drank the warm peach tea. Finally, he spoke again, with his rich voice. "I need to ask a favour of the two of you." Hermione's chest swelled with excitement, and she nodded. "You two are supernatural enthusiasts, I believe you like to be called, are you not?" Hermione nodded again, and Ron opened his mouth to speak, before Hermione caught his eye and he shut it again.
"I'd like you to keep tabs on a certain seraph. He has white-blond hair and striking grey eyes. His wings reach about 300 cm in span, and he's a bit taller than half that. Around 180, I think." Harry told them, watching as Hermione made mental notes of everything he said. "Please don't ask why I need to know where he is and when."
"But…why not?" Ron hazarded the question, biting the inside of his lip as he saw the look both Hermione and Harry gave him.
"Because I asked you not to." The redhead wasn't entirely happy with the plain response, but nodded, his eyes not daring to meet the male's, regardless of whether or not they were hidden partially by the thin framed glasses perched upon his nose.
"Harry…" Hermione's voice broke through the previous tension. "Why is it that you wear glasses? Aren't vampyres supposed to have perfect vision?" Harry shrugged slightly, as though he didn't actually know why he wore them from day to day.
Silence, save for the warm crackling and popping of the fire, overtook the room again, as Harry finished his tea and rose from the couch gracefully. "Thank you for your hospitality." He bowed his head to Hermione slightly, glanced to Ron and turned on his heel, almost gliding over the carpet to the balcony. With what looked like a twitch of his long fingers, the door was unlocked and slid open for him. Hermione watched in awe as he stepped out, up onto the rail, and jumped, disappearing from view.
"Wow, Ron…isn't that wonderful? That something that graceful and catlike exists in a human? Well, not human per se…" The redhead began to tune out his girlfriend's voice; as lovely as it was, it was partially annoying when she spoke of those creatures so fondly. It wasn't that he disliked them, especially when they spared the lives of himself and Mione, but something about that particular one bothered him.
And the favour didn't seem too positive either. The description given, albeit plain and somewhat common, described perfectly a seraph by the name of Draco Malfoy. Due to the nature of his and Hermione's career choice, they knew all about the Malfoys, including the most darkly kept secrets of the family. Like how, before the birth of their son, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy worked loyally for the one known as "the vampyre lord", mainly because most were horrified to utter the name of such dark people as him.
Hermione, of course, saw no point in not calling him by his name. 'Voldemort', she always uttered, invoking a shudder in Ron every time they spoke of him.
After the birth of Draco, however, the Malfoys spontaneously decided that they wanted a better life for their child. They left the side of Voldemort for one known as a "seraphic lord". Something obviously much better than working as spies for a vampyre lord. Draco basically grew up sheltered and protected by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who treated everyone with wings like an angel. Possibly a bit naïve of him, Ron always thought, to be treating a Malfoy that way. Especially since they were definitely no angels.
---
Harry pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat against the crumbling brick wall of one of many crumbling buildings. He remembered vaguely the history of his own family, and silently went over it in his head. His father, James, had been a disciple of Dumbledore, and a seraph. His mother, Lily, was a freelance vampyre, although from time to time she answered to Voldemort.
It was likely because of that that Harry had become Voldemort's number one follower.
Lily had sired James a few years before she was found to be pregnant with Harry. Why Harry didn't have more seraphic features was odd to him, but he figured he'd never actually find out, not even from his godfather, Sirius. Of course, the fallen angel had since gone into hiding and only contacted Harry from time to time when he really needed it.
Harry remembered that Sirius had once told him that James had allowed himself to be sired because so much was expected of him under Dumbledore's service. You had to practically devote your life to him and pray he didn't ask you to protect your own ass if he got in trouble.
Allowing his eyes to drift slowly closed as he rested for a bit, Harry waited for the seraph to show up somewhere. Above him, Hermione and Ron went about their lives, glancing out the window every so often to see if they could see anything of interest to their vocations.
---
A hand slipped around the corner of a building, trying to tightly grasp the material before it broke off and the hand slid away; it's owner falling forward before she caught herself. The black haired girl glanced around nervously, blood trickling down her chin – the result of biting her lip too hard. She was afraid of something, or someone, and wasn't too vain to hide it.
The black haired female sighed in partial relief as she leaned against the wall, slumping to the ground. Her pug-like facial features were prettier in the twilight of the city, and her clothing albeit being partially dilapidated were still endearing, hardly revealing her newly acquired vampyre nature. Her eyes fell shut in the moonlight as she made a weak attempt to rest and catch her breath.
Her hair was plastered to her head, the fringe sticking out at odd angles from her forehead; the obvious result of being stuck in the bone-chilling rain. She mouthed something to herself, eyelids silently fluttering. Opening one eye halfway, she took in her surroundings, as bleak as they were. An alleyway, the buildings planted together with hardly any room between. Shadows cast from the opposite building, hiding the lower half of her body.
"Please…kill me…" She mumbled, closing her eyes again. Draco looked at her plainly from where he leaned against the wall adjacent to her, his arms crossed over his translucent and sodden dress shirt, one leg crossed over the other comfortably.
"Why's that? Don't want to deal with being a vampyre?" He mocked, sneering vindictively. The blond didn't move from where he leaned, but had half a mind to take a few steps closer to her and kick her in the side, knocking her from the wall and onto the ground. For the time-being, feeling the blood of a vampyre splatter about him was all he wanted, it didn't matter which one.
"I didn't ask to be raped by those two! I didn't ask to be sired!" She cried to him, tears welling in her eyes as her voice became hysterical. Draco raised one eyebrow to her, as if asking 'what two?' She shook her head and continued. "Two redheaded young men. Around twenty-one, twenty-two, I think…" The female broke off and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head despondently against them.
"Don't worry, little girl…" One of the males sniggered, as his twin brother ripped her skirt up to her panties. "We won't hurt you."
"Much." The other sniggered, glancing up to his brother with a sadistic smirk. The girl shut her eyes tightly and screamed as pain shot between her legs, the young men still laughing cruelly. Tears ran down her pale face as one raped her, the other waiting none too patiently to the side.
"Move, Fred, I want my turn before she's completely desensitised." The redhead standing up pushed his brother's shoulder slightly, who zipped the fly of his jeans back up and rose, motioning to the black haired female.
"She's all yours, George."
"Please, please…" She sobbed into her arms, causing Draco to turn away and roll his eyes slightly. She was such a sob case. Like she was the only one in that hellhole of a city to ever be raped and sired. However, Draco did want the blood of someone, and this chick was just asking for it.
"I'm not making this pleasant for you."
Through the open window of Hermione and Ron's shared apartment, a blood-curdling scream could be heard. Ron's skin prickled, and he glanced back towards the moonlit sky, wondering just who was being killed. A similar scream had been heard earlier, before Harry had shown up; when Hermione had been soaking in the claw foot tub.
Harry's ears perked up at the scream. He had since moved from below the apartment, instead taking up a seat upon the roof of an empty club, watching the people mill away to their homes, unaware of the horrors of their municipality. A smirk spread along his lips as his green eyes moved up in the direction of the scream, waiting for the seraph to show his fair self.
Draco stepped from the alleyway, spreading his wings. Blood splattered his pants, though it was hardly noticeable. A few beats carried him into the sky, catching an updraft, lifting him higher. The wind tousled his blond hair as he shut his eyes slightly, smiling pensively. Down below, the body of the nameless female lay in a puddle of her blood, various wounds dotting her skin.
