Chapter 4: Meet and Greet
The meeting went better than Harry expected.
They sat everyone down: the twins, Ginny, Sirius was there and Harry was immensely grateful for that, Professor Lupin sat next to him, and surprisingly enough Tonks was found passed out in one of the guest rooms, recovering from a night shift at the DMLE. Hermione had, unfortunately, gotten roped into helping Missus Weasley prep supper. Harry and Celestine entered together, arm in arm as was becoming habit for them, no theatrics this time, and every eye shot to the pair as soon as they did.
Harry gave them all a pared down version of the previous night and that morning; just the essentials. They didn't need to know that he and Celestine had slept together - in the same bed, entangled in each other intimately, however you want to put it, for instance. But, everything of note in the Undercity, the confrontation with Missus Weasley, and later with Ron, was laid out before them. The twins howled with laughter at the idea of Voldemort getting politely kicked out of anywhere. Ginny kept glancing between Harry and Celestine suspiciously, and he didn't really know what to make of that. Professor Lupin looked concerned, but other than an initial measuring look he basically ignored the vampire standing next to him, so Harry had high hopes there.
Tonks looked like she was having a bit of a crisis as the story unfolded. She went from alarmed, to panicked, to confused, to astounded, to looking like she was questioning everything she'd ever known by the end of the tale. Harry was sure it had something to do with the fact she was an Auror, but what exactly was a mystery to him.
Then Harry just had to wait and see how they took it all. Celestine's hand slipped into his and he held onto her tightly to ground himself.
The twins gave him unusually serious looks and rose as one to approach him. They clapped him on the shoulders when they reached him.
"That's some heavy shit." They said together.
"We can see why Mum and Ron reacted how they did," Fred started.
"But, we most certainly don't agree with them." George finished.
"We've got your back, mate." Fred vowed, and Harry beamed at them in response.
"Yeah, and if ickle Ronniekins kicks up a fuss, you let us know. We'll sort him out."
"We should probably do that anyway, brother mine."
"Too right, too right."
"Thanks Fred, George," He nodded to each of them in turn. Their eyes widened for a fraction of a second before turning sly. "It means a lot to me to have your support in this."
"No problem, Harry," Fred started. "But, I'm George. He's Fred."
"Ya know, I've never understood why everyone else falls for that." Harry wondered out loud before clapping their shoulders in return. Honestly, felt nothing alike- oh, right. Most people can't sense magic the way he can. Yeah, that'd do it. They looked a bit shocked before they laughed and left the room, presumably to find Ron.
Or maybe they just have mischief to cause elsewhere, who really knows with those two?
Ginny approached him next, standing defiantly, though in defiance of what Harry had no idea.
"Everything I've ever been taught would lead me to distrust you." She stated matter of factly to Celestine. Worry gnawed at Harry; if she reacted how Ron did he was going to have a real problem on his hands. Ginny is not one to be fucked with, if what he's heard in the rumor mill is to be believed. Celestine inclined her head in acknowledgement.
"I gathered as much from your brother's reaction." She replied neutrally.
"Don't expect me to react like that immature arse," Ginny snorted. "I actually know what tact is, and how to use it."
"Do you now?" Celestine asked, eyebrow quirked disbelievingly, clearly baiting the young girl.
"When it suits me." Ginny shrugged with a smirk, then turned to face Harry. They were exactly the same height now, Harry realized. She didn't look like she was done growing either.
What the bleeding hells is this shite? Is Harry forever doomed to be the shortest one in the room?
Still, he gave her a genuine smile in greeting.
"Hey, Gin." He started. "Your thoughts on all this?"
"I'm reserving judgement for now." She shrugged again. "You were absolutely off your rocker going after Tom like you did, don't get me wrong, but I don't know fuck all about vampires, so we'll see how this goes, yeah?"
Harry blew out a relieved breath. "That's all I'm asking."
"And after what you did for me, what kind of arsehole would I be to refuse you that?" Then, under her breath but clearly directed at him: "Apparently I'd be my own Mum, or worse. Ronald. Ew!" She shuddered dramatically and Harry laughed.
"I'd rather you be you then anyone else in the world Gin. Don't ever let anyone change you, yeah?" He clapped her on the shoulder, and she blushed pretty heavily, but didn't duck her head or flee from the room.
She did make an excuse about helping the twins knock some sense into Ron, and strut from the room, but it isn't fleeing so Harry would call it an improvement.
Tonks leapt onto her feet, having to windmill her arms about to keep herself from immediately faceplanting.
"Welp, this has been fun folks, but I've got some shopping that needs doing before my next shift." She gave them all a jaunty salute, clapping Harry once on the shoulder as she passed, but he saw how her smile seemed a bit fixed, her steps a bit too quick, and her hair was a rather dour looking shade of nervous blue.
"Mind if I talk to you alone, Harry?" Professor Lupin asked kindly right as Harry was about to rush after Tonks and ask her if she was alright.
"Er, yeah, sure thing." He stuttered out. "Don't let Tonks leave just yet, I wanna talk to her." He whispered to Celestine, hopefully quietly enough that the werewolf's enhanced hearing didn't pick it up.
She gave him a significant look, nodded her head, and stepped backwards into the shadow of a rather large bookcase near the door.
Harry blinked and she was gone.
"God damn, I need to ask her to teach me how to do that." He muttered to himself, then moved to sit in an armchair near the couch Sirius and Professor Lupin were sharing.
"So," he started, a touch nervously. "What's on your mind, Professor?"
"There's no need to call me professor anymore, Harry. I'm working in construction now, you know. Call me Remus." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, a dry, wry little thing, and Harry relaxed, just a tad.
"Remus, then. What's on your mind?"
He leaned forward, face serious, all good humor gone in an instant. "Harry, do you know who that woman is?"
"Her name's Celestine. She's Lord Livius' daughter, and therefore basically vampiric royalty." He answered promptly, as if he was being called on in class. That habit is going to be hard to break with Professor- Remus.
"Yes, you said as much earlier, but have you any idea of what reputation she has?" Harry shook his head. "I've never been to the Undercity, but I've heard stories, passed along by the various packs I've walked with over the years. They call her the silver eyed devil, the shadow-walker that brings only death. She's a killer, Harry."
Harry remembered the conviction in her voice when she promised to kill his relatives. How sure of herself and her decision to kill them she was. And he remembered how he had agreed. Agreed, and decided to watch it happen for his own sake.
"So? I'm a killer too." He pointed out. Remus leaned back, clearly startled, and Sirius' eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
"What!?" His godfather barked.
"I killed Professor Quirrel at the end of my first year. Didn't Dumbledore ever mention that? To anyone?" They shook their heads.
"I was under the impression his death was some sort of accident." Remus breathed. "What happened?" Sirius nodded his head, pointing at Remus as if to say 'yes! What he said!'
"He was playing host to the disembodied spirit of Voldemort," Remus looked like he might faint, he'd gotten so pale, and Sirius' shock was giving way to a growing rage.
"I found out someone was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone Dumbledore was safekeeping in the school, in an attempt to resurrect the Dark Tosser, so Ron, Hermione, and I went to stop them."
"Why didn't you tell a teacher?" Remus asked, as faint as he looked at the moment.
"I did. McGonogall didn't believe us. To be fair, we did have the wrong suspect in mind, but we weren't actually wrong." He was still bitter about that. His head of house never believed him when it came to important matters. It seemed, to him, that she cared more about quidditch and the House Cup than anything else outside of the classroom.
Sirius was grinding his teeth together now.
"In the end, I had to face him alone, and I found out that Mum had left some sort of protection in my blood. It burned him to touch me." He looked at his hands, flexing his fingers and wondering at the magic his mother wove into his blood.
"So, I grabbed his face and held on until he crumbled to dust in my hands. He screamed the whole time." He swallowed forcefully, banishing the memory. He didn't regret killing him, but the sound of his screams as he burned will always unsettle him.
"So, yeah. Her being a killer doesn't exactly change my opinion of her."
Remus fell back against the couch, looking utterly lost, while Sirius jerked to his feet and started pacing.
"That was just your first year?" Sirius demanded, and Harry nodded.
"Wasn't the only time I almost died that year, but yeah." Sirius stopped, shooting him a disbelieving look.
"Explain, pup." Harry shrank into himself in the face of Sirius' anger, and his godfather immediately backtracked.
"I'm not mad at you, Harry." He intoned softly. "I'm struggling with the idea that Dumbledore would allow such a dangerous situation to befall you under his care. Please, pup, there was Quirrell, the fiasco in Third Year, the Tournament last year, what else?"
"Alright, so Halloween of my first year this troll got in the castle…"
Several minutes later, Sirius was sitting down again, face in his hands. Remus had gone to retrieve a bottle of firewhiskey and was pouring them all a glass.
"I think, after everything you've just told us, a drink is in order." He handed Harry a shot glass of the flaming liquid. He eyed it dubiously, having never understood his classmates obsession with it. The alcohol itself burned something fierce, and it was on fire besides. Still, he shrugged and knocked the shot back. The warmth it spread in his belly was somewhat nice, at least.
"I've never liked this stuff, but thanks for the thought, Remus." He said just as Remus and Sirius were taking their own shots. He'd been somewhat hoping one or the other would do a spit take at his nonchalance. He's too young to be drinking yet, least not the hard stuff, after all, but they both just smiled, amused at some joke he wasn't privy to.
"It takes some getting used to, though to be fair, most people don't drink it for the taste." Remus explained, still smiling.
"Dumbledore really has failed you, and that whole school, an awful lot, hasn't he?" Sirius muttered darkly. Harry just shrugged, having not thought about it in depth much, though now that he was…
"Yeah, suppose he has." He muttered. Remus' smile fell away and he poured them both another shot. Harry politely refused another when Remus gave him a questioning glance. One is plenty for him. Won't even get him buzzed, but to be honest he can't stand the feeling of being drunk so all's the better.
For a long while they sat in companionable silence. Sirius worried his glass, contemplating whether to get a third shot or not. Remus with his head laid back, searching the heavens for answers to who knows what questions he was asking himself. Eventually, Harry decided to address Remus' actual concern which started this whole discussion.
"Now, I can probably guess that Celestine has killed more people than me. That doesn't bother me. What I want to know is why she's been killing them." He speared Remus with a serious look. Or, at least what the rumors say about why she's killing people. He's not about to let hearsay change his opinion of her.
He's not Ron.
The man set his glass down with a weighty sigh.
"We know that she used to be one of Rome's greatest generals, in times long since passed, but nowadays? Some say she's one of the Undercity's chief enforcers. Others say that she's an assassin, or the captain of the guard for the Undercity, but all agree that she hunts those that threaten the safety or sanctity of the Undercity."
"That's not exactly a bad reason to kill people." Harry pointed out. Remus blinked, clearly surprised at his assertion.
"You haven't been there. You haven't seen it. You don't know how homely it feels. How alive it is. Thirteen thousand people live there that have no right to life or liberty under Ministry law. Hell, I'd kill to protect that place and the people within it, and I've only spent a few hours there."
Remus considered him for a long time.
"You have a kind heart, Harry. Take care that you don't let people take advantage of it."
"I'm not naive, Prof- Remus. The oath we swore was something we both agreed on, and it's no unbreakable vow. I'm confident when I tell you that she isn't taking advantage of me."
Remus looked ready to protest, but Sirius cleared his throat.
"I'm with Harry on this one, Moony."
"You are?" Remus turned wide eyes on his old friend.
Sirius nodded. "I saw how protective of him she is. When Molly was a moment away from attacking her, and I split her and Harry up, she could have easily fled from the room to protect herself. But no, she grabbed him up and weaved an impressive little blood shield around the both of them instead. At the very least, she cares about his well-being."
Remus shook his head. "I'll admit, it's a little hard to imagine the woman I've heard such violent stories of acting like that."
"Why?" Harry jumped in. "Even according to the rumors about her, she only kills out of protectiveness for her people. Why is it so hard to believe that she'd be protective of me if she cares about me?" Harry was starting to get agitated, now. If he would just trust him!
Remus held up a hand, asking for peace. "It's not that I don't believe that it's possible. It's that I have a hard time believing that she could come to care about you so fast. It's not often that such quick connections form between people."
Harry ran his hand through his hair and let out an irritated sigh. He knows Remus wasn't trying to make it sound like he was impossible to care for, but it hurt all the same.
"Look, I get that, but what about my life is commonplace exactly? Surviving the killing curse? Killing a professor at eleven? A basilisk at 12? With a ruddy sword? Face it, Remus, odd shit happens to me. This is just another in a laundry list, but for once it's a good thing."
Remus didn't look convinced, not entirely, but he was listening, and that's something.
"He has a point, Moony." Sirius laid a hand on Remus' shoulder.
"Just. Think about it. Give her a chance. I promise she won't let you down." Harry stood. "I'll talk to you both later, yeah?"
Some minutes earlier…
Celestine stepped back into the shadow of a bookshelf, sinking into it with a thought. Her awareness shifted, spreading throughout the musty old manor. As if she were a many eyed, formless creature; a penumbra that lived in every darkened corner, beneath every forgotten cupboard, in the shadow cast by an especially ugly troll leg umbrella stand as it scooted, seemingly of its own accord, directly into the path of the Auror currently fleeing her presence.
Her thoughts were a jumble; a great, tangled mess of confusion as what the Ministry preached warred with the story Harry had told her only moments ago. Around and around she went in her head, unable to reconcile the radically opposed viewpoints espoused by two things she trusted greatly: the Ministry to which she has sworn her allegiance, and Harry. Funny that the young man she hardly knows already holds as much sway over her as an entire government. Already Celestine could see how she was drifting away from the Ministry's control, her loyalty to them a fairly flimsy thing: a veil over her eyes that she was already tearing holes into. She's confident that if left to her own devices, Auror Tonks won't betray them.
But Harry has asked her to hold her back, and so she shall. He intends to discuss more than just the Ministry with her, after all. And she'd like to ask her a few questions of her own.
The ghastly umbrella stand planted itself in place with a firmness that couldn't be natural, and the Auror went tumbling ass over tea kettle. Celestine drew herself up from the shadows, materializing just in time to catch the Auror around the waist in a facsimile of a hug.
"Merlin dammit! I swear that thing was on the other side of the hallway earlier. Thanks for the save there-" She looked up, their eyes met, she whispered a quiet shit, and Celestine smiled. She wanted to reassure the woman with something gentle, but her amusement at the situation turned her grin into something that had too many teeth to be comforting for a human, wizard or not. The metamorph paled, her hair turning the color of fresh snow in an instant, as her eyes widened dramatically for the barest hint of a moment before narrowing suspiciously.
"It was on the other side of the hall." Celestine set the Auror back on her feet and stepped away, leaning casually against the door and effectively cutting off the metamorph's only real escape route. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, and Celestine noted how Tonks' thoughts were sharpening, focusing rather than scattering when put under pressure. Even her stance now was firmer, more balanced than she'd seen it before. Impressive. She has the makings of a great bellator.
"You trip me up so you could keep me from leaving?" The Auror accused heatedly, her thoughts full of how she imagines the vampire intends to kill her and what she can do to prevent it, and Celestine chuckled lightheartedly.
"No. My best guess is that that," she gave the umbrella stand a disgusted look. "Abomination of interior decorating has been enchanted to inconvenience you specifically. It moved itself to trip you."
"Fucks sake, Sirius. I'm going to thump you good for this." Tonks muttered to herself.
"You actually believe me?" She couldn't keep the surprise from leaking into her tone. She'd fully expected to have to argue her case. That so many of Harry's friends had been willing to give her, and by extension vampires in general, a chance to earn their trust had been one thing, but for this Auror to do the same? Next you tell her the Gods be-damned lycanthrope is going to try and become her best friend.
"Two reasons for that. For one: that's the exact kind of thing Sirius would do. I can't believe I hadn't realized it sooner, to be honest with you. That dratted thing trips me every fucking time I come through here. I'm clumsy, but every time? That's just ridiculous. Reason the second: it seems a bit beneath you to do something so childish to get my attention, doesn't it?"
Celestine smirked. "I'm not above a good joke, but that's not exactly a good one, now is it?"
Tonks snorted, amusement suffusing her thoughts and helping to lower her guard just the slightest bit.
"Harry asked me to hold you back." Celestine continued. "He'd like to speak to you. It's rather important, and we both know you don't actually have any shopping to do."
"Stupid excuse, that was." She admonished herself with a sigh. "Right, fine. I can stick around for a bit." Tonks turned, clearly headed for the kitchen, hoping to have their conversation in a public venue. Or as public as it gets in this manor house.
"Auror Tonks," she stopped, turning back with a suspicious glint to her eyes. "If you would follow me?" She gestured up the steps. "This is a conversation best had in private, and away from certain matrons that have already attempted to harm me, who are currently prepping an exorbitant amount of food for supper." More precisely, the hag was in the midst of chopping an enormous amount of vegetables with far more force than necessary, all the while imagining that the celery stalks were Celestine's fingers. How pathetically vindictive of her.
"Ya know, I'm rather keen on avoiding Mrs. Weasley myself. Getting tired of her making snide comments about how I dress at every turn." This Auror was rather good at using the truth to mask her nerves, Celestine was coming to learn. If she wasn't making a conscious effort to immerse herself in her thoughts, she'd have never guessed how nervous she actually was.
"She'd rather you dress like a proper witch, I take it?" Celestine scoffed as she led the other woman up the stairs to her room.
"You're no more a fan of that phrase than I am." Tonks pointed out with a wry smirk.
"Who is she to decide what is and is not proper? If your clothes are that displeasing to her eyes, she can always avert them." No matter where, or when, or in what culture, there are always nosy busybodies trying to push their perception of what is right and proper on those around them. She's never had the patience for them.
"Preaching to the choir there, sister." Celestine ushered the other woman into her room, pulling the door shut behind her. With a flick of her wrist and barely a thought, the blood wards she'd woven into the doors reawakened, setting her awash in their comforting, crimson glow. Tonks eyed the floating letters with growing apprehension and self recrimination. Her grip on her wand tightened, her weight went to the balls of her feet, ready to move at a moment's notice.
"Yes, this would be a rather precarious situation you've gotten yourself into," Celestine answered the Aurors racing thoughts with a grin, and her eyes widened, then narrowed as anger stole away her shock. "If I was intending you any sort of harm. Luckily, I just want to talk."
"How are you reading my mind? My occlumency barriers are some of the best in the brigade." She demanded, wand leveled unerringly on the vampire's face. Close enough that she would have to go cross eyed to see it properly. She looked beyond the weapon instead, focusing on the metamorph's eyes while a lazy smile pulled at her lips.
"Legilimency and telepathy are two very different things, Nymphadora Vulpecula Tonks." She probably shouldn't taunt the poor girl, but she's curious what she'll do.
"Get. Out. Of my head." She growled, the tip of her wand glowing with a barely restrained spell.
"What spell is it you intend to cast on me? Bludgeoner? Piercing hex? You have so many options floating around up there. Pick one. Go on. Do it." The command seeped in, a barely there whisper of suggestion, and Tonks' training kicked in. A spell, drilled into her head during specialist training, effective at fighting both vampires and werewolves. The Silver Stake, a foot long rod of sharpened silver, conjured at speed, leapt from her wand, crossed the sparse few inches between it and Celestine's throat, and embedded itself there with a wet thunk. It had nearly gone all the way through; Tonks could see the sharp end sticking out the back of her neck, and blood had splattered onto the wall behind her. The vampire staggered back, eyes wide in shock. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a sickening gurgle as blood burst forth from around the spike and between her lips in equal measure.
Tonks blinked, breathing heavy, heart racing, as dread took root in her heart.
"Oh god! Shite shite, I didn't mean to actually cast it!" She rushed forward, intent on helping, but Celestine batted the wand out of her hand, then, faster than she could react, shoved her square in the chest, knocking the breath out of her, and sending her flying back to land hard on her arse at the foot of the bed. She looked up, and Celestine was there, towering over her, eyes having gone as red as the blood that was sizzling and smoking around the silver spike in her throat. She reached up, grasped the spike in one hand, and pulled it out in one smooth motion, releasing a great spurt of crimson that splattered down the front of her armor and onto Tonks' face. It was unsettlingly warm on her skin. With an effortless flick of the wrist, she sent the spike sailing through the air to embed itself into the floor, not even an inch away from the Auror's crotch.
The message was clear: if she intended to hurt her, then she would.
Then, to Tonks' horror, she smiled. It wasn't small and fond like the smile she'd kept sending Harry while he told his tale. No, this was an ear to ear baring of sharp, bloodied teeth. There was a certain madness there, a fierce revelry that Tonks had never seen before which lit up her vermillion eyes with something like excitement.
The blood stopped spreading, stopped spilling forth from her wound, turning instead to recede back into the body it had come from, while the splatter along the wall behind her, and down her cuirass flowed through the air in wisps of shadowed crimson that withdrew into her wound, until, as the last few drops of blood were whisked away from Tonks' own face, she stood unmarred, as if nothing had even happened.
"The Auror has teeth. I think I'm going to like you." The vermillion hue to her eyes drained away, replaced with the silver glass that they had been before Tonks caught her by surprise.
"What- but- how!?" Tonks spluttered. That spell should have killed her. Everything her instructors had taught her said that impalement with silver should be debilitating at best for a vampire. Celestine chuckled throatily.
"I'm surprised, to tell you the truth. I hadn't thought it would be so easy to push you over the edge."
"You ordered me to do it! I didn't actually want to!" Tonks denied heatedly, jumping onto her feet.
"I only ordered you to pick a spell. I never said anything about casting it. That was all you." The vampire insisted with vicious amusement. Tonks glared at her, crossing her arms defensively. She knew Celestine was telling the truth, deep down in the darkest parts of her heart. Her denial won't last.
"How did you know I wouldn't pick the Killing Curse, huh?"
"You were pissed off and not a little bit frightened. It takes legitimate hate to cast that spell. In that moment, you didn't have it in you to cast it." She rather doubted the Auror would ever be able to summon that kind of black hate. That moment was all training; the will to survive compounded by fear, driving her to protect herself. Admirable, really.
"I meant it: stay out of my head." Tonks insisted forcefully, and Celestine had to respect the strength of her spine.
"As you wish." She'd honor her wishes. For now. She'd earned that much. Tonks eyed her for a moment, then sighed and wiped a hand down her face.
"This kind of shit is the exact reason that most wizards are so fecking scared of your kind. Messing with people's minds, invading their privacy. It just isn't done."
Celestine's smile fell away. "Is that right? Just not done?" She glared down at the shorter woman. "Wizards never meddle with the thoughts of their fellow man, is that it? They don't practice legilimency without any sort of legal ramifications. They don't have entire squads of government funded obliviators wandering the countryside, wiping the minds of anyone they deem fit at a moment's notice."
"The obliviators are just doing their job." Tonks insisted, but Celestine only arched a single, unimpressed eyebrow at the weak argument. "They're enforcing the law." She added, but it came out weakly, and she didn't need telepathy to know Tonks didn't quite buy that excuse herself.
"That doesn't make what they're doing right. The law in the Wizarding world is a sham; a mangled mess of loopholes designed to serve the aristocracy, and keep the common man under foot. Pro pudor! Love potions are still legal in your world! They've been banned in the Undercity since their invention more than seventy years ago."
Tonks opened her mouth, shut it again, and took on an introspective mien. "Shit, you may have a point." Good, this one is actually using her head. After the debacle with Ron, she was concerned that every witch or wizard raised in this world would be just as stubborn and shortsighted.
"So what exactly makes what I did any different than a talented legilimens accomplishing the same end through different means? Why is one of them given little more than a slap on the wrist while my people are hunted and killed?"
Tonks snorted. "Hard to imagine your people being all that easy to kill after what I just saw." Irritation flared in her chest, and she had to choke back a snarl. She didn't know, she had no idea how many had died. How much had been lost since they were declared Maledictus Creaturae. Damn Constantine to the lowest circle of his Christian hell! Let the daemons have his bones.
"I am exceptional. Most of my kind are no harder to kill than you are." She ground out, only just keeping her irritation in check. "But that's not the point. Answer the question, Auror Tonks. Why do I deserve such fear and scorn?"
"You'd have to be a blasted idiot not to be afraid of you." True enough, but not her point. A healthy dose of respect is a far cry from outright fear. "No doubt in my mind you could have killed me a dozen different ways after you … reassimilated."
"I prefer the term regenerated, myself. And of course I could have. Just as Harry would have killed you a dozen different ways when he found my corpse at your feet. Why aren't you afraid of him?"
"I know him, and I know he wouldn't hurt someone unless they well and truly deserved it." Tonks huffed, clearly getting exasperated.
"You don't think you'd have deserved death after murdering me in cold blood?" Celestine asked, purposefully missing her actual point in order to make her own.
"You were in my head!" She shouted.
"And that justifies my death, does it?" She tilted her head, voice completely level, as casual as if she were discussing the weather.
"No," Tonks admitted after a long moment, heaving a tremendous sigh as the fight went out of her. "No, it doesn't. Just like your abilities don't justify the way the Ministry treats you. Just like my being a metamorphmagus didn't justify the way people treated me in school." There was a bitterness there, and Celestine had to restrain herself from reaching out to discern the source of it. She could guess well enough without having to know.
More importantly: she'd made the connections Celestine was leading her to. Not exactly the path she had intended the conversation to go after her little stunt, but a good outcome nonetheless.
"Let us start again. I am Celestine, daughter of Erasmus Livius, Lord of the Undercity. It's a pleasure to meet you." She sent the Auror a small, genuine smile and a shallow curtsy, fully aware of how ridiculous she must look curtsying in full armor. It really, really is a pleasure. This one shows so much promise.
"I'm Tonks. Just Tonks. Don't you go blabbing my other names to anyone, you hear? They're both ghastly." She scowled. Celestine thought her names were both rather lovely, actually, but she'll be keeping that to herself for now.
"Now that we have that out of the way, I was actually hoping to ask you a few questions." Tonks blinked a few times, struggling to remember why she was actually up here to begin with for a moment.
"Whaddya wanna know?"
"Tell me about the Order of the Phoenix."
Tonks eyed her, weighing something in her mind for a moment. "Suppose Harry will tell you all about it, won't he? And really, you've sworn to see to Moldyshorts' end, same as us, so where's the harm in it?" Celestine shrugged elegantly, letting the woman justify her actions to herself however she likes.
Some minutes later, Celestine was pacing the room while the shadows that clung to the room stretched and quivered in time with her steps. Tonks had flopped back onto the bed, fiddling with her wand and drawing abstract, glowing shapes in the air over her head.
"The Order's not accomplishing anything of substance!" She snarled, frustrated beyond belief that the whole thing amounted to little more than babysitting Harry and the Hall of Prophecies of all things. "While keeping Harry safe is paramount, there are much better ways of doing it than just watching him. That's a passive defense, and a weak one at that. Voldemort is the most powerful sorcerer of the last century, what would one lone guard have been able to do had he shown up at Privet Drive?"
"I've said the same thing, but Dumbledore's the one calling the shots." Tonks is as frustrated as she is, but it's an old frustration for her. One that's had time to cool, mellowed by her respect for the man with too many names, but Celestine's anger burns hot and bright at the staggering incompetence of it.
"Are you his slave?" She demanded sharply.
"No!" Tonks squawked, banishing the shapes she'd drawn with a flick of her wrist. She sat up so she could spear the vampire with a disbelieving look, which she met with a sneer.
"Then stop acting like it." She cut her hand through the air, her own shadow lengthening, twisting, turning to something that could have never been human with the force of her ire. "There is a better way to go about this, which is part of why Harry wanted to talk to you to begin with."
"So how would you go about it then?" Tonks tilted her head, her hair shifting to a shade of yellow that somehow managed to look curious. A lock of hair fell in her face, and she grimaced at it. It turned hot pink in the next instant.
If she were to drink her blood, would it enhance her own shapeshifting abilities? She's never heard of another Pureblood Striga having the pleasure of metamorph blood before. Would her taste reflect her current shape, or would it be immutable? Perhaps one day she'll find out. For now, she has more important things to worry about.
"Train him. Teach him the art of war and combat. Help him become the warrior he is destined to be." She's seen it, tasted it, knows in her heart that Harry is a man of purpose. A fated child. Like Romulus and Remus, or the ever vaunted Merlin, he will reshape the world.
The door opened, and Celestine whirled on the spot, hand going to the hilt of her sword. How did anyone get through her sigillum? It's not impenetrable, but it would have taken a master of blood magic to tear it down without her sensing it.
Harry stopped in the doorway, tilting his head, concern shining in his eyes as he took in her hunched stance, and the tenseness drawing at every line of her body.
Of course, she had drank a small measure of his blood before she cast it, had she not? Of course he'd be able to walk through it. He is a part of her now. With a relieved sigh, she straightened, and sent him a reassuring smile. He met her gaze, his own burning like balefire in the low light of the room as he concentrated, and then his voice sounded in her mind.
Are you alright, Celestine?
She took in a shuddering gasp, eyes wide, before darting forward to cradle his face in her hands. "You did it on purpose this time!" She beamed, utterly delighted. He just smirked and shrugged, as if to say 'yeah? So what?' She laughed, low and breathless, as her mind sought the comforting warmth of his thoughts. He'd only copied what he'd felt in the throne room, throwing his magic in her general direction while willing his thoughts to reach her. That he'd tried over a dozen times to reach her on his way up the stairs, and only just now succeeded is irrelevant. He did it. Without any formal instruction, without being a Pureblood Striga, without all those advantages that she had seen given to hundreds over the centuries and still watched them fail to master the technique, he. Had. Done it!
Oh, meae deliciae. You don't even know how impressive you are.
Her deliciae blushed, but he didn't shy away from her adoring gaze. No, he met it head on, and she felt him pressing in on her mind again, a tangled web of gratitude, affection, inadequacy, and a blinding mass of hope/determination/protectiveness. His way of expressing the feelings he has no words for. She glanced down to his lips, wanting so very desperately to show him with actions how much his feelings are returned.
"Oh don't mind me, just go off in your own little world, why don't you." Tonks teased good naturedly, though Celestine could sense her good humor hid a very real concern for Harry's well-being that at once grated on her and reassured her. That others cared for his safety beyond the most basic sense is greatly reassuring, and she is glad of any and all support she'll find in this place, but the implicit lack of trust in her will always leave a sour taste in her mouth.
Literally, if she ever deigns to drink from any of these people.
Harry startled at Tonks' voice, breaking eye contact to find her where she was likely still sat on the bed. Celestine didn't rightly care that they had an audience, and was mostly just annoyed that their moment of intimacy had been broken by the metamorph. She reluctantly let her hands fall from him, but he caught them up before she could step away, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as casually as you please. She squeezed his arm, gratitude shining in her eyes, and he had the audacity to wink, wink at her! Before he addressed the Auror.
"You seemed a bit out of sorts earlier, Tonks. Everything alright?" Concern knit his brows together, and Celestine let her annoyance fade away as she was reminded that Tonks was in the midst of a crisis of faith, so to speak, not even an hour prior.
"Eh, just a lot to digest, ya know?" She waved his concern away with a flippant wave of her hand, and Celestine couldn't contain her amused smirk from how drastic of an understatement that really is for her.
"I figure it would be, what with your job being what it is. Legally speaking, what are you supposed to do in regards to Celestine and I?" He gestured between them for good measure. He's asking the right questions, and Celestine was once more impressed by him, and she let him know; brushing her mind against his affectionately, and loving how it made his breath catch and his heart skip a beat.
Tonks' eyes darted between them fitfully for a moment, chewing on her lip in thought. "Technically speaking? If I follow the letter of the law and not the spirit? I should have already reported her presence here and summoned a squad of Aurors to detain her for questioning."
Questioning. What a lovely way of saying execution.
Harry stiffened at her side, his hand casually slipping into his pants pocket to grip his wand. Just in case. She's confident he won't need it, but his caution brings a smile to her face nonetheless.
"But I'm not going to do that!" Tonks hastened to add, not having missed his sudden tenseness. He narrowed his eyes at the Auror, trying to judge her honesty. He nudged her, shooting her a questioning look, and she nodded her head. They can trust her, she's sure of it.
"Alright, we really appreciate that." He sent the Auror a small, but totally genuine smile. He withdrew his hand from his pocket to run it through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. "I had a favor I wanted to ask you, actually."
"Whatchya need?"
"I've got a war in front of me. I've sworn to fight it, and it would have found me even if I hadn't, but I don't … exactly know how to fight. I was rather hoping you'd be willing to teach me a bit about duelling the Auror's way."
Tonks frowned regretfully. "I'm sorry mate, really I am, but quite frankly I just don't have the time. I've been getting hit with overtime lately, and add in the shifts I'm obligated to take watching your house?" She shrugged helplessly.
"Dumbledore's still having you watch my relative's house even when I'm not there?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.
"Well, yeah?"
"Why?"
"Well we gotta keep them safe even when you're not around."
Harry snorted derisively. "What a waste of time. Feel free to skip out on any of your shifts watching those louts. In fact," A devious glint came to life in Harry's eye, and Celestine found she rather liked it. "When's your next shift watching them?"
"Er, tomorrow, from four to ten in the evening. Why?"
"Don't be there for it." He said, deathly serious, and Celestine smiled viciously, desire settling like hot coals low in her belly.
"Alright," she agreed, shooting him a dubious look, and this time Celestine had to know what she was thinking. If she rescinded on this it could cause them serious problems. Not insurmountable ones, but annoying nonetheless. Thankfully, though she was suspicious, she also had some inkling of how Harry was treated by his relatives, and honestly didn't care what happened to them if she wasn't there to watch them.
The Auror stood, brushing her hands against her pants, the memory of Celestine's blood splashing across her face playing behind her eyelids with a surge of regret. She'd really not wanted to hurt her, how very interesting.
"Well, I do really got to get going this time. My shift starts soon." Soon is putting it strongly, she has three hours left before she's expected to report in, but Celestine won't begrudge her desire to unpack in solitude.
"Alright Tonks. Be seeing you." Harry gave her a two finger salute and a grin.
"It was a pleasure meeting you." Celestine inclined her head, smirk in full force as she put her sigillum to sleep with a thought, unnecessarily, as it happens. That particular sigillum only seals people out, but has no bearing on those already within it. But Tonks didn't know that. The Auror chuckled, just a tad nervously.
"It was certainly something. Oh!" She stopped just as she was about to close the door behind her. "Sirius was an Auror before, well. Before. He'd probably be able to train you up just as well as I could, and having something worthwhile to do would do him some good, I think."
Harry perked up, sending the metamorph a blinding smile. "I'm such an idiot for not thinking of that myself! Thanks Tonks. You have a good one."
"You too, mate." And then she was gone.
"Think we should go talk to Sirius about-" Harry started, but then Celestine was cradling his face in her hands, her gauntlets discarded like so much trash in her desperation to feel his skin on hers, to feel the rush of blood just beneath the surface as his heartbeat picked up, to feel the thrum of his magic; a deep well of untapped potential, just waiting to be unleashed. Pushing him back until he was trapped between her and the door. She pressed her forehead to his, spearing his deadly beautiful eyes with an intensity that surprised him.
Their lips were less than inch apart, and she could feel the hot puff of his breath on her lips; a scintillating temptation. Fifteen, he's only fifteen, she reminded herself fiercely, trying to resummon her resolution from the previous night even as she cursed modern conceptions of age and adulthood, and failing spectacularly as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him.
"Celestine," he murmured, and then his mind was pressing into hers; a spear of his desire, his respect, his admiration and devotion flowing into her, and she gasped even as she met his feelings with her own. Like a flaming sword, her passion thrust forth, setting them both alight from the inside.
"Fuck," he gasped, and then his hand was tangled in her hair, and he was tugging her down to press his lips against hers. To hell with modernity, she kissed him back with fervor. She knew that this was his first kiss, entangled with his mind as she was, but she had roughly twenty-five centuries of experience to draw from, and their connection was no longer a one way street. She drew him into her, showing him in thought and deed how to draw such sweet sighs and moans up from within her, and he, as always, impressed her. His enthusiasm was endless, eagerness making up for any lack of technique and stoking the coals in her belly up into a steady hearthfire.
Soft. So soft and warm and alive and mine, mine, always yours. Their thoughts crashed together, mixing and twisting until it was hard to tell who was thinking what. All they knew was that they wanted, they belonged.
She drew his lip between her teeth, letting it slip out oh so deliciously, but her eyes sprang open in concern when she tasted his blood, so much sweeter and deeper than any she had ever tasted before, on her tongue. She pulled away, concerned she'd hurt him, but he met her with hooded eyes, glittering with desire, and ran his tongue over the bleeding divots she had left in his lip with a satisfied smirk. Then he was surging forward again, bloodied lips pressing against her own without hesitation, and her tongue shot out to lap up the sweet vitae with a low, pleased groan. He welcomed her tongue, his own meeting hers in a fierce dance, clumsily at first, but growing confident and daring within moments.
When they pulled away to catch their breath, there was blood smeared across his mouth and chin, dripping down onto his shirt, and a single, sticky strand of it connected them, thrumming with want and life, for a moment before snapping. She licked her lips, and he was there too, painted on her skin like a brand that she never wanted to wash away even as she was so very desperate to not let any of it go to waste.
His hand that was in her hair moved to cradle her face, and she nuzzled into his touch with a pleased hum.
"Your eyes," he breathed, and she knew that they'd gone crimson once more.
"This is their natural color." She explained breathlessly, every slight movement of her tongue refreshing the taste of him and sending bolts of electric heat through her body. "I hide them, but blood and passion bring them out." Something her father had taught her since birth that she'd never been able to shake: the obligation to appear somewhat human so as not to unsettle them too greatly. Hiding what they really are for the sake of fearful sheep.
"They're stunning. Remind me of the Philosopher's Stone. It's absolutely criminal that you hide them away from the world." He was totally serious, and she huffed out a breathless laugh, smiling toothily at him. His thumb swiped down over her lips, drawing into her mouth to run across her teeth. She opened her mouth just enough for him to fit between her fangs and run across their sharpened tips. Another thing she'd kept hidden, although she'd kept the elongated incisors in her disguise as a bit of rebellion against her father's insipid rules. Now, in a moment of undiluted, raw emotion, her shift had slipped, and her fangs had come out to play; every single tooth a sturdy, vicious fang. No one would see her smile like this and think she was human. How he hadn't so much as winced when she carved his lip up she had no idea.
"This how your teeth naturally are?" She hummed an affirmative around his thumb, and he smirked, eyes sparking with desire. "They suit you." Something warm settled in her heart, and then he was pressing the pad of his thumb down hard on one of her fangs, and there was a fresh wash of warm succour flowing onto her tongue. Eyes fluttering shut, she clamped her lips around his thumb and sucked, laving his thumb with her tongue in an effort to savor every drop.
He leaned down, guided by what she had shown him in her memories, laying a hot trail of bloody, sucking kisses along her jaw and down her neck; nipping and biting here and there with a startling gentleness. The blood he left in his wake burned deliciously against her skin, setting her to moan wantonly, his thumb leaving her lips with a pop as she threw her head back, fingers clawing at Harry's scalp to guide him, to hold him tighter, to please, please never stop!
He hit the base of her throat, her armor preventing him from going where they both wanted him. Tendrils of shadow leapt up from her own, finding every buckle and tie holding her armor in place, and undoing them all at the same time. Her armor fell away, tossed aside by her living shadows, and then they were rushing forward, sliding over Harry, under his shirt, rubbing against his skin like so many excited kittens.
Harry swallowed convulsively. "Fuck me, that feels good." He groaned, before he laid a trail of hot, sticky kisses across her collarbone. Her eyes sharpened, shadows tightening their hold, and then she was floating backwards, held aloft by her living shadows, dragging Harry along with her. They twisted slowly in the air, so that when they came to rest upon their lavishly gargantuan bed, she was straddling his hips, favoring him with hooded eyes alight with blood and want.
"As you wish, meia deliciae." She purred, hands fisting in his too big shirt, shredding it with claws and sharp shadows in equal measure.
"Oh," he gasped out, wide eyed. "We're- we're really doing this then?" His hands had gone to her hips, holding her tight even as nerves clawed at his heart.
She leaned down, tongue flicking out to lap at the blood still flowing from his torn lip. "Only if you want to, my darling. I'll understand if you're not ready." It would be torture of the highest order to have to stop now, to have to restrain herself from this moment on until he was ready, but she'd do it. For him. For them.
His hands fisted in her tunic, pulling it up, and it was eagerly that she raised her arms so he could pull it off and toss it aside, leaving her in naught but her pants. She wore no bra, and she reveled in the way his eyes nearly bugged out of his head when her tunic fell away, latching onto her chest as she stretched her arms over her head, preening under his awestruck attention.
"Fuck that waiting shite," he managed to choke out, tearing his eyes away from her chest to spear her with an intense look of such desire that it left her breathless. "We've got a war ahead of us, and I don't want to miss a damn thing."
"That's what I like to hear." She crooned as his arms wove around her, hands splaying out against the soft skin of her back, and she could feel him wondering at how soft and smooth she was, but then she was leaning down to press their lips together again, and then he could only think about the softness of her lips, the delightful sharpness of her teeth on his tongue, the taste of his blood on her lips, and the utter satisfaction of knowing that he's wanted so viscerally by someone as incredible as she is.
She moaned into his mouth, rolling her hips against his, enjoying the shock of pleasure that shot through her as she rubbed her core down on his erection, even with all the layers still between them. She broke away to leave a trail of nips and kisses along his jaw and up to his ear, where she sucked his ear between her lips. He let out a breathy 'fuck,' and one of his hands trailed down her back to cup her ass, marveling at how good it felt in his hand, and pulling her closer, thrusting his own hips in time with the movement entirely by instinct, sending an electric bolt of pleasure rocking through her.
Her shadows writhed, shredding the rest of their clothes unceremoniously, the tattered remnants falling around them like rain. Just like that, the length of him was pressed against her, and she rocked her hips again, drawing a moan from deep within the both of them. She did it again, and again, setting a slow, laborious pace, breathing hard into his neck as his cock nestled into her without actually entering her.
"So warm," he murmured, and she chuckled, low and excited, in his ear.
"Just you wait," she ran her tongue up his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "It gets so much better."
"Celestine, I-I want-" He trailed off, the hand not busy groping her ass tangling itself in her hair, which had come out of her carefully done up braids, writhing in the air around her face the same as her living shadows did across his body. "I want you to bite me." She stuttered in her pace, eyes wide as she pulled back to look him in the eye; to be sure he just said what he did.
"Harry…"
"I want you to. Bite me, drink your fill." He tilted his head, baring his neck for her, and she rocked her hips with a high, keening noise of restrained need. "I know you won't hurt me, and it won't turn me." Though I'm not opposed to being turned, just not yet. Echoed in the space between them, and she leaned down to kiss him again, angling her hips so that the head of his dick pressed against her entrance with the slightest, most delicious pressure.
"Thank you, Harry." She rolled her hips at the same time he thrust his own, sheathing him inside her in one go. She hadn't gotten a good look at him before, but the stretch, the feeling of fullness was exquisite, and she knew he must be blessed with size there, where he is not in height.
At the same time, she clamped her fangs down on his neck, tearing through flesh with ease, and setting his blood to flow, like ambrosia, into her mouth. The bite wasn't terribly deep, not at first, but then his hand fisted in her hair, pulling her close as he begged her, breathlessly, to not hold back, to take from him what she wants, what she needs, and so she did. She bit down hard, sinking her fangs in as far as they would go, and the flow of his blood turned to a flood, which she swallowed, mouthful after blissful mouthful. With each beat of his heart, liquid heat and electric magic flowed into her, and through her; suffusing her body in him, his life force.
She thrust her hips in time with her swallows, in time with the beating of his heart, and he followed suit; pressing into her as deep and as hard as he could, bracing his feet on the bed to drive his hips up into hers with all he had as he stoked the flames of pleasure in her higher, and higher, and higher.
"You feel so good, Celestine. Feels like I'm melting." He gasped, and she moaned her agreement into his neck.
Your blood, your dick! Don't stop, don't you fucking stop! He grunted, eyes screwed tight as he fought off his rapidly approaching peak, and she pulled away, lavishing the bite she'd granted him with her tongue to seal it.
"Don't fight it, meia deliciae." Then she was kissing him again, silencing his protests before he could even get started, rolling her hips with renewed fervor, feeling him hit a spot so deep within her that it had her seeing stars.
"I'm almost there, Harry." She moaned breathlessly, pressing their foreheads together, their eyes locking from less than an inch away. Determination sparked in his eyes, and he seized her hips in both hands, driving up into her relentlessly, setting a blistering pace that had her choking on a gasp, a litany of Latin swears spilling out of her lips as the fire in her belly coiled tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it released all at once, flooding her entire body with white hot pleasure.
She cried out, seeking his mind out with her own, to share her pleasure with him. His eyes went wide, and then he was groaning, long and low, as he buried himself up to the hilt in her one last time, twitching once, twice, and then erupting, the first of many sticky ropes of his cum plastering her insides, setting her awash in a satisfaction that seeped out from her core and settled into her bones.
She slumped down onto him, wrapping his head in her arms, kissing him lazily, enjoying the taste of him on her lips, basking in the feeling of intimacy that she had not had in so very long.
"Celestine," he murmured reverently when she pulled away to nuzzle his throat where she'd bitten him. She'd been sloppy, caught in the moment, and his blood had spilled down his neck and onto his chest, where it was now caught between their naked bodies, painting them both a lurid crimson. The sight, the feel, the smell of his blood all around her had her practically purring.
"Harry," she pressed a kiss to his pulse point, feeling his heartbeat against her lips. Steady, strong, not a hint of fear in him even as she painted him with his own blood. What kind of man was he, to lay so comfortably in the arms of a woman that reveled in his blood? What madness had planted itself within him that led him to give her such devotion, such trust the likes of which she had never enjoyed in all her long years?
Likely the same madness that had driven her to bind herself in blood and honor to a man she had only just met, irrevocably tying their fates to each other forevermore. Is this love? Or, at least the first stirrings of it? Is it fate? Perhaps neither, perhaps both, in the end it matters little. They have each other now, and she has no intention of letting him go. Not to the meddling of hags like the Weasley matron, not to uppity Dark Lords with delusions of grandeur, not to time, not even if the Gods themselves came down from on high would she let him be taken from her. The sentiment is echoed in his own heart, a warm, tender thing, wrapped up in sharp, deadly protectiveness.
"We made a bit of a mess." He laughed breathlessly, pressing a kiss into her throat, leaving yet another imprint of his lips in his blood on her skin, and she giggled. He's not wrong. They look like a murder scene out of some horrible tv melodrama.
"I can feel me in you. My magic, mixing with yours." His hands roamed over her back, over the swell of her hips, her ass, and back up. Tracing the path his power, brought into her through his blood, cut through her body. She can feel it too. The heady sensation of the two of them becoming one, their minds lingering together, pressed against each other as close as their bodies. And he's still hard, still inside her. She clenched her inner muscles around him, and he huffed out a breath in surprise.
"Blood given willingly is a powerful thing." She ran her tongue up his bloodied throat, flicking it over his chin as she propped herself up on her elbows above him. "And you didn't just let me drink your blood. No, you begged me, demanded that I take as much as I dared. Such a thing has not happened in over fifteen hundred years." She grinned toothily, eyes glittering like rubies, so bright that she could see the glow they cast on his face from so close, but he just looked confused.
"No one has let a vampire drink from them in over fifteen hundred years?" He asked disbelievingly. "That doesn't sound right."
She hummed thoughtfully, leaning down to lick across his shredded lip, using a bit of his blood to heal it. "Perhaps I misspoke," she said into his lips. "I meant to say that a powerful sorcerer has not done so in over fifteen hundred years."
"I'm no sorcerer," he protested weakly, craning his head up to catch her lips with his own in a slow, languid kiss.
"Not yet," she breathed when the kiss trailed off, rolling her hips lazily, teasing a gasp out of him. "But you will be. The only thing you're missing is knowledge, and that will come in time. You're going to change the world, Harry. I know it in my heart."
"We're going to change the world, Celestine. I can't do this without you." His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, pressing them flush against one another as he rocked his hips in turn. His eyes burned with determination and fear, hope and affection. Like emerald flames, carrying a torch, and the torch was for her, and for all that they had sworn to do. For the world that they would change, for the wars they would wage, for the blood they would spill, together.
"Don't sell yourself short, meia lepores." Her voice was a breathy murmur. "You could, but I cannot tell you how glad I am to be by your side for it."
Author's Note: I was hesitant to post this chapter, due to the final scene, but after rereading several other stories on this site I am confident I won't get myself banned for posting this. I want to thank you all for reading and reviewing. Your continued interest is a large part of what drives me to continue writing, even when life gets difficult. So, thank you. Until next time!