* * * The Lion and the Lamb * * *

Smoothly working his movements around Bella's supine form in his arms, Edward pauses to tensely close his eyes, take a deep breath, and pinch the base of his nose in an effort to calm himself. In Delores' wake, the temperamental rainbows reflecting both brightly and palely from his form have become alarmingly stiff and brittle, as if the encounter had stretched him so thin that he felt ready to break at any moment. His terrified audience has no doubt who would bear the brunt of it if he did; the colorless slivers of light shining upon them look to be too much like prickly glass needles that would easily pierce them if they had any substance.

Bella, who had become revived enough to hear the entirety of Edward's rant and witness the offending witch's undignified and hasty exit, now notices that the features of Edward's brilliant face appear to be more exhausted-looking than she has ever before seen them, and that the emotions he is struggling to control easily rival those of the aftermath in Port Angeles. He needs a distraction. Specifically,she remembers, something trivial and unimportant. "For a moment there- I think she was even looking a little green," Bella helpfully offers. "It's really too bad she didn't melt."

Edward's frowning lips form upwards into a grim line, but are still too upset to smile. Every rainbow of his dichotomously washed-out aura seems to stretch even longer in response, though each one seems also to have taken on less of a brittle disposition. Thin spears rather than needles, then. Very heartening… NOT. Many in their fearful audience are shocked and dismayed that she would bring up talk of this at such a volatile juncture.

Remembering how it seemed to help the last time this happened, Bella lets herself ramble on the theme, hoping to lighten the moment. "Maybe… the water just has to be thrown on her from a wooden bucket, or something… or while she's holding a broom. Or perhaps- a house has to fall on her. Do you think a dollhouse would work? She's not exactly wearing ruby slippers."

I could fix that, Edward can't help but think in all seriousness, knowing how deserved such an injury would be… but of course, that's not what she meant to suggest. Dollhouse, indeed. Nothing that would truly harm anyone. Internal sigh. I'm trying, Bella; I'm trying.

Edward's expression doesn't show much improvement, though he seems maybe a little more relaxed than he was. Around the room, his watered-down prismatic reflections begin to subtly vibrate like piano strings- no longer threatening to shatter. He is calming, a few surprised thoughts gratefully observe. How is it that she knows just what to say to him?

Tiredly, Bella looks up at him with calm concern. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so tired." Indeed, the deep purple shadows under his eyes have gotten so dark that they look black.

"You haven't." Though the tone of his voice is gentle, the shortness of his answer is telling.

"What's got you so riled up?" she asks quietly. "You're not usually this grumpy."

Edward grimaces and speaks softly: "Her little stunt with the dementor has just made me insanely more thirsty."

Bella's eyes widen with understanding… an expression abruptly and frightfully mirrored by every one of the nearby observers. In their minds, it is terrifyingly indisputable: if these depleted spectrums could in any way be an indication of how thirsty he is- especially compared to what he had been- his light show now looks downright starved. Accordingly, their heartbeats speed up with frantic nervousness. "Oh. I'm so sorry," she laments. Motioning weakly to indicate she's willing to stand up on her own, if it'll help… she quickly realizes that her limbs are just too tired to respond.

Edward sighs, stroking her face tenderly as he looks into her eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for." As their gazes lock comfortingly, the intensity subtly increasing between them as she more-than-willingly stares back without blinking, he slowly inhales a deep, unquestionably scorching, but calming breath- then exhales just as deeply, his overtired expression growing peaceful as he does so. Unwittingly in concert with this action, the vibrant mood-sensitive rainbows naturally reflected upon her person grow impossibly brighter and brighter, until at last (as he exhales)- they each burst out with a brilliant shower of surplus white light. Immediately, the Great Hall is effulgent with color again- as if each watered down spectral counterpart had just been rejuvenated with a needed boost of essential vitality, from its source.

Silently, the whole room breathes a collective sigh of relief. I don't know what it is, but something seems to be going in our favor.

In consideration of Bella's need to blink (and breathe again), Edward's eyes close momentarily, releasing her from his gaze. "Thank you, Bella," he breathes, feeling much better- despite his overwhelming thirst- now that the mental focus of his mood has been properly realigned. Throughout the room, the wire-thin strings of vibrating spectral light begin to dance together in perfect harmony once again, as if they were playing a silent but happy symphony. To the few who are keenly observant, it is evident that the entire polyphony of fluid motion is revolving around her. Come to think of it, they realize: it always has.

In light of this, and completely satisfied with, at the very least, this clear evidence of Edward's devotion towards her… as well as his non-aggressive attitude towards all those who would be his food- even and especially in the face of such as the dementor and Umbridge- Dumbledore ends the light show.

As soon as his wand is free for other use, the headmaster promptly sends out to someone named Kingsley (his foremost Auror confidant at the Ministry) both a thought-stream of acknowledgement- "There is indeed a U-vampire at Hogwarts (of which fact they've no doubt already been informed) though he is not being aggressive in any way. I repeat: he is not being aggressive! This is a diplomatic situation." as well as the preemptively urgent request: "Do not summon him! He has a human willingly in tow. Please ensure she is kept safe!" in hopes of protecting Bella from whatever efforts the Ministry might have otherwise ignorantly attempted against Edward, and also to keep the two of them from being separated from one another. Given the apparent level of devotion between them, such an action would not likely bode well for anyone.

As Albus silently performs this much appreciated action, Edward becomes clued in as to the hidden magical threat that any possibility of being summoned truly represents for the both of them… being that he, as an undead being, is inherently susceptible to such a magical request- and that she, who would only accompany him if he happened to be touching her skin at the time, would not be safe in the most likely (aka: physically taxing) environments he might be summoned to. Not that it'd be better leaving her behind! The images of too many recent near-death experiences remain all-too-fresh in his memory. In alarmed response to this awareness, he initiates a policy of staying in contact with her skin at all times (which is not so far from what he had already been maintaining in his post-reunion desperation), and in the process- his thoughts unknowingly trigger an immunity toward the call of any potentially forthcoming involuntary summons, accidental courtesy of his and Bella's magical connection.

The Masens gasp as they finally get the first glimpse of their son, now unhindered by any sparkling interference. During the ensuing moment of absolute shock and amazement, a simple query after his name (which they hadn't been around to catch earlier, though some of the other portrait characters had) gives them the first real hint of the unimaginable truth standing in front of them.

In the midst of his parents' undeveloped but budding realization, and inwardly fearful of their potential reaction, Edward turns to politely address the headmaster while pointing to the goblet of blood still residing on the table between them. It's far enough away from them now for the scent not to be a bother to Bella, but its presence is not helping him any. "Would you mind getting rid of that for me? I really don't need any more temptation right now." Even if half its method of doing so is by simply reminding me of Umbridge's threatening actions.

Albus looks at what he's pointing at, and is abruptly surprised and alarmed to realize what it is. He knows the effect that fresh blood has always reportedly had upon vampire sensitivities, so easily triggering their lethal reactions… let alone one so depleted as he. With a prompt nod and flick of his wand, the goblet amenably disappears from the Great Hall.

"Thank you," Edward concludes appreciatively. Turning slightly away again, and shifting Bella's recumbent frame against his shoulder so that he can support her comfortably with only his right arm, he reaches over to a pile of chocolate sitting on the table and picks up a small chunk with his left hand. "You need some chocolate," he states as he offers it to her gracefully. "Doctor's orders."

Bella looks at him in drowsy but humorous disbelief, though at the same time- thankful for the offer. "You're kidding, right?" she murmurs groggily, before taking it into her mouth.

"Nope. Prescribed Dementor Medical Practice 101," he teases; "…a Wizarding World crash course."Then his voice softens. "It will help you keep from reliving the nightmare."

"Thank you," she faintly nods and smiles at him appreciatively- shuddering slightly at the reminder, but starting to feel better already. So that was a dementor.

Eventually as she is finishing her chocolate, and her tired eyes are refusing to open more often than not, Bella drowsily recalls something else unfamiliar from the earlier confrontation and curiously mumbles to Edward: "By the way, who is Voldemort?" Numerous gasps immediately sound around the room at the unexpected mention of his name, and her eyelids twitch open a crack in confusion. Some few of the wizards and witches present have the presence of mind to be curious as to how Edward had known the name, when Umbridge hadn't been willing to say it.

"A skilled dark wizard of a vampire wannabe," Edward replies with a shrug. "He terrorizes the entire wizarding world."

His audience is amazed at the factually straightforward yet unruffled assessment of the wizarding world's greatest tyrant, and a touch surprised at the suggestion that He-who-must-not-be-named could ever want to be an undead vampire. Presumably, the heartless undead are both non-magical and animalistic in nature, and such beings would never be seen as more than second-class citizens of the magical world. Edward's actions, however, have been pretty effective at debunking at least one of these claims. Still, to overcome the considerable drawbacks- his comment suggests he knows that there is something pretty significant that vampires have, which Voldemort wants. Such as an eternal life span, Dumbledore supposes. It would be a truly horrible thing to see Voldemort live forever. I hope they realize this.

At Dumbledore's left, Professor Snape's wary stance remains determinedly skeptical and outwardly unmoved… though inwardly he is suitably impressed. He's no agent of the Dark Lord; that much is certain.

"Eww," Bella observes sluggishly, managing to open her eyes slightly wider. "Kind of like Gianna, then, but on steroids."

Edward chuckles, dryly amused. "Something like that." He regards her with amazement, shaking his head in disbelief. "You have the strangest mind."

Bella smiles coyly, her eyelids drooping closed again. "All the better to stump you with."

Edward snorts under his breath, his lips twitching up into a smirk. "Tell me about it."

Dumbledore, being a legilimens himself, is starting to wonder whether or not these interactive clues, in combination with his inexplicable knowledge of the magical world, actually indicate a similar ability in Edward. If it does, there may be more to Bella than he thought, as well.

By now, Bella is very sleepy. The encounter has truly worn her out. Her eyes are remaining closed now, and she is barely holding on to consciousness. "You can go to sleep, you know," Edward encourages her softly. "No one will bother you."

"But I need to talk to you," Bella objects drowsily.

"I'll be here when you wake up. You can talk to me then," he assures her.

"Do you promise?" she asks him, with a hint of desperation in her voice. Her eyelids crack open just enough to be able to see his reply.

Edward gently lifts her limp fingers to his mouth and kisses the knuckles on the back of her right hand. "I promise," he replies solemnly.

Bella sighs, satisfied and evidently pleased. "Okay," she mumbles.

Then, as he starts to hum a few bars of her lullaby, stroking the side of her face and rocking gently as he does so, her eyes close of their own accord and she quickly relaxes into deep sleep cuddled up against his chest- finally allowing the overwhelming tiredness of the day to overcome her. It is a very tender moment.

Author's Note: I have to admit it's probably very wishful thinking on my part- that any group of even the bravest members of the Wizarding World could react this tamely to a ravenous vampire in their midst, no matter how inoffensive he has yet been… but I guess I like to give them the benefit of the doubt.

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