Again, I thank you all for your endless patience with your erratic author. Let's hope this is me back on form.
-YDHP-
Christmas felt like a distant memory despite only being days ago, Vlad's stomach feeling full of ice as he sat in the Death Eater meeting. Meeting was a strong word; mostly it was excessive indulgence and loud, drunken discussions of their plans for the year. Vlad listened avidly, discarding the 'plans' that were clearly a product of Firewhiskey chased by Villains-Vodka.
The Death Chompers were clearly getting bored, chafing at the restrictions placed by their psychotic boss as he waited for Vlad's vow to stop constricting his magic. Honestly, somebody should have come up with this sooner.
"I'll challenge ya here an' now!"
"Ye couldn' duel yer way outta a barrel o' jellied eels!"
For the supposed pinnacles of evil they were, their drunken insults were rather reminiscent of arguing First Years at Hogwarts. But... if they wanted to wipe each other out, Vlad wasn't going to stop them.
"Bellatrix dear, do be quiet."
Vlad cringed as he said it, but it was the fastest way to get everyones attention - nobody else dared speak to her that way except Riddle.
"You arrogant little-"
"Hush. Those two are about to demonstrate why you shouldn't drink and duel, your blathering about Muggle children was interrupting."
He felt Riddle's eyes on them as Vlad irritated one of the highest up of his ranks, but many peoples attentions turned to where Cooper and Scrag (Vlad assumed that was a nickname, but he hadn't wanted to ask) were squaring up. Cooper still had a Firewhiskey in hand, the tumbler tilting precariously in his non-wand hand. Well, Vlad assumed that was the case.
Raising his own flask to his mouth, Vlad sipped at untainted pumpkin juice - there was a reason he didn't accept any of the drinks offered. Cooper threw the last of his drink in the direction of his mouth, mostly successful even if some ended up splashed on his black robes. Most of them were in the black garb, giving the 'festivities' a sombre feel. Most vampires would feel right at home.
"I'll kill ya!"
"I'd like to see you try!"
Watching closely - Vlad was curious about the effect of excessive consumption of alcohol on magic - he quickly surmised that despite intoxication, Scrag wasn't a bad duellist. He didn't attack outright constantly, exhausting his magic but played safer, parried and cast soundlessly. Of course, his aim was awful and Cooper was brutal, slashing through the air so even when he mostly missed, great cutting gashes caught an arm or shoulder.
Heart rates slowing, nobody seemed in any hurry to offer medical aid to their fallen comrades as they bled and twitched on the ground. Vlad had seen them both jeer at captured muggles. He was in no hurry himself. Neither appeared to have won, so Vlad turned away and saw Bellatrix eyeing him like she absolutely intended to kill him any minute now.
"Well, what did you think Vladimir?"
Riddle quizzed, and so the returning hum of conversation silenced itself instantly.
"I just worked out why so many of these idiots suck at duelling."
There was a current of outrage, though nobody dared actually speak out until their master said so.
"Oh? Do tell."
Tracing one pale finger in circled around the arm of his throne, Riddle's narrow eyes were cool and calculating as they gazed upon the teen vampire.
"They only fight to the death."
"Yes? It makes for a good bloodsport."
Vlad shook his head, sipping his juice and tightening the cap pointedly slow to keep everyone waiting.
"Perhaps. But it means they don't practice. The ones that practice without death the imminent outcome are much better than..." Vlad gestured off-handedly to the dying drinks "that."
Before Riddle could answer him, another voice cut in.
"My Lord, if I may?"
"Speak, Bellatrix."
"If this parasitic whelp" that was a new one " is so certain he's superior at duelling, I would be only too happy to prove him wrong."
Lacking many of the characteristics that gave one actual facial expressions made it hard to read more than cold fury in the reptilian face, but Riddle eventually smirked in a highly unsettling manner.
"An excellent idea. Nothing fatal though Bella, perhaps the 'whelp' has a point about practice. To sharpen skills without depleting my numbers."
Vlad highly doubted Bellatrix knew much that wouldn't cause fatal or at least lasting harm, but her rotten smile flashed in Vlad's direvtuon as she stood, brandishing her wand. Everyone began to step back, so Vlad slipped his wand from its holster. It didn't seem he had a choice.
They circled each other widely for a minute, sizing the other up. She was taller than he by an inch or two, and with messy curls cascading down her back and a ripped dress barely covering her skin in places, Bellatrix definitely had the more wrecked appearance. Her eyes flashed with what he could only call madness, wondering what made her so different. Tonks' mother Andromeda was much sweeter, he knew, and Narcissa was mouthy and cruel but rarely violent in his experience.
Yet Bellatrix was psychotic. Perhaps her father had a favourite. It would explain her obsession with a man who cared nothing for her wellbeing, only her compulsive devotion. Clearly accomplished at silent spell casting, Vlad barely sidestepped the fiery branding charm that flew at him. He had enough scars.
The minute he focused on her properly timed with a fluctuation in his vampiric senses, a sign of his transformation barely six months away. Flicking his wand in an ineffectual manner, Vlad held up a hand as Bellatrix froze to the spot under his silent petrification jinx. Several onlookers protested, one even raising a wand to aid.
"Wait! I can't attack her."
"Why not?"
"She's pregnant. It's a vampire thing. We can't harm a carrier."
A collective gasp ran the length of the room, though several clearly thought him lying to avoid a superior duellist trouncing him.
"Why not?"
"Evolution, moron. If we killed them while they carried we would wipe our own food source out. Even if they survived the drinking, the turning process would terminate their pregnancy."
Riddle was watching closely, and Vlad had more than a small suspicion Bellatrix's husband was not that childs father. Lucifer, those two together, contributing genes and upbringing... that child may as well be the Anti Christ.
"You're certain?"
Certain his charm held, at least, Vlad crossed the impromptu duelling circle and sniffed at Bellatrix properly. Hellfire, she needed a bath or ten. But the deterrent stench of pregnancy overpowered even filth and blood, harsher on the aftertaste that cloyed his senses.
"Two months along. Probably a boy. Have your potioneer check if you don't believe me."
Vlad plucked Bellatrix's wand from her frozen hand before crossing back to his spot to unfreeze her. She would have heard everything, and still her hand thrust forward as if she held her wand. Her magic was too wild for her to wield that way though, and nothing happened.
"I'll give you this back" her wand was a vile thing to look at, curved almost like it originally intended to be a blade "if you promise to behave yourself and go have your pregnancy confirmed. If I'm wrong, we'll continue. If I'm right, you're welcome to choose anybody else you think can best this 'parasitic whelp'."
She looked to Riddle, who nodded his agreement. Bellatrix held out a hand with filthy, clawed nails, which Vlad tossed her wand to. It let itself be guided back to masters hand, and she stalked off in the direction of the trapped Potions master, Slughorn. Vlad made a note to look in on him before he left, check the man was still (relatively) unharmed in his position. Many in the room looked stunned into inarticulate silences, while Riddle stood and began circling Vlad himself.
"How uniquely useful you are to have around, Vladimir. Perhaps you should terminate your conventional education and be taught here, rather than Hogwarts."
"You do that" he suppressed a shudder each time Riddle passed his turned back "and there will be nobody to turn Harry Potter."
"I could simply order you to kill him."
"Harry? Or the old coot?"
"Potter, of course."
"Never gonna happen. I'll end you myself first."
There went the gasps again; Death Eaters wouldn't dare look cross-eyed at 'their Lord' while Vlad enjoyed irritating him. It was feigned, but Riddle forced out a chuckle as though it were friendly banter they exchanged.
"Ah, the petulance of youth. You'll learn, young Dracula."
The assembled followers relaxed a touch, and Riddle pointed with his wand toward the way Bellatrix had gone.
"Shall we?"
"If we must."
Vlad had intended to visit Slughorn anyway. An invitation only made it easier.
The winding stairs to the lab reeked of Bellatrix still, telling that she'd indeed gone where he suggested. Slughorn was shaking slightly as she picked her nails with a knife, waiting for the requisite potions to be ready; pregnancy could be determined by spell, but the spell carried risk of damage to the feotus as the baby developed its own magic slowly. So potions were more readily used.
Their arrival didn't exactly help Slughorn's tension and he mopped sweat from a wet brow, shoving the hanky back in his pocket before using each stirring ladle to dispense two separate potions into metallic goblets.
"Pregnancy detector. Sex d-determination."
Naturally, they had to know the sex. Vlad restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Riddle would obviously want a boy; he favoured male followers by far. Came from a long line of 'women are objects/housewives' and had openly offered Bellatrix as an unwilling partner to Vlad. With any luck, that wouldn't happen again as the potions returned results.
"P-positive. Male. Eight week foetal development."
The leering smirk that stretched Riddle's face was enough to make Vlad's stomach roll. Bellatrix seemed surprised; Vlad could sympathise somewhat. He hadn't expected Riddle to be human enough to breed, body held together with dark magic and sheer spite.
"I think, perhaps, I have a job for you Vladimir."
Vlad raised an eyebrow, standing neatly between Riddle and Slughorn so the man could clean up his workstation without fear of curses.
"Stop calling me that. And... it really depends what you want."
"Eliminate her husband. Bella shall select him to duel in her stead when we return upstairs."
That didn't really surprise him as a request.
"What of his brother? Rabastan is blood-loyal to a fault and I don't really want him following me around trying to kill me."
The Lestrange's had been some of the few to actually look for Riddle before, and Bellatrix was sycophantic and obsessed with the madman still. So Rodolphus had to actively represent a threat for Riddle to have him killed in front of everyone upstairs. As Bellatrix's cuckolded husband, that was probably possible.
"Rabastan will not go against me. Should he try, you may exert whatever means necessary to punish his transgression."
Code for if he tries, kill him but otherwise leave one of the few truly loyal alone. Riddle didn't actually value their life. Just their service.
"If you say so. Just get me away from her until she's spat out the spawn."
Bellatrix scowled, but now she knew she was having her insane boss/lovers child, she seemed oddly mellowed by it. As though she was more than the captive incubator Vlad and Riddle both knew she was.
They ascended the stairs as a trio, though Vlad was hugely unhappy about letting them walk behind him it was an interesting visual for him to enter the room as head of the party. Nobody had really moved, though they'd obviously continued drinking.
"Bella, choose your replacement."
Vlad returned to his 'spot', sipping juice and attempting to look bored. He knew he couldn't get away with avoiding killing forever, and given the choice between innocent and the murderers in this room, he knew which he'd choose. But that didn't make it easy to accept he belonged to a heritage of killing going back three millenia, or that when he let the vampire side rule, killing Rodolphus didn't seem so bad.
Bellatrix gave the impression of thinking hard about her choice. Some subtly stepped forward, itching for the chance to attack Vlad. Others hung back, perhaps sensing the danger in the air.
"Who better? My love. Rodolphus."
Outwardly, Rodolphus appeared cocky and arrogant. Relaxed, even. But he wasn't as stupid as he was cruel. As Rodolphus pulled his wand and took the expected spot opposite Vlad, he threw side-eyed looks to Riddle and Bellatrix. He knew he wasn't supposed to come out alive. Taking a deep breath as many began to watch hungrily, Vlad raised his wand.
"You first."
Harry always knew when Vlad had had a bad time of it, playing the role of a double agent. He came back at two in the morning, using 'his' room to shower and change before crawling into bed next to Harry, shaking.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Rodolphus Lestrange is dead."
That hollow voice was very specific, meant Vlad had at least been involved in the demise.
"Which ones he? The brother or the one married to Bellatrix?"
"Married. Of course, to a woman pregnant by Riddle. Couldn't have him arguing about whether or not its his."
Harry's eyes widened; how was that even possible?
"I'm surprised he could, after all he's not even really alive anymore."
"Yeah, I thought similar. He made me kill Rodolphus to get him out the way."
The vampire couldn't resist the lure of his mate's comfort, curling into Harry's chest.
"I wouldn't feel too bad. He was one of the ones who tortured Neville's parents."
Vlad nodded solemnly, shoving his wand on the bedside table as though he didn't want to touch it right now. Harry ran fingers through his boyfriends fine, straight hair and Vlad instantly relaxed a bit, shuffled closer for more petting.
"Just not how I wanted to go back to Hogwarts."
The new term began in only two days.
"I know, but he deserved it really."
It wasn't an attitude he wanted to adopt, but ultimately deaths were an unfortunate yet unavoidable part of the war they were in. Vlad, mentally and physically drained, fell asleep against Harry quite soon after. Harry didn't sleep much himself, watching the youthful face tense even in slumber as Vlad carried weight he shouldn't. Like guilt; the deaths of Fenrir Greyback and Rodolphus Lestrange were not losses to the world.
Nor were the others Vlad occasionally took part in as a part of his appeared assimilation with Riddle.
Harry wasn't completely free of death himself - Quirrel and Karkaroff to name but two. And people had died because of him too, starting way back at his own parents. Neither he or Vlad were going to escape with their souls unchanged, he knew, but Vlad would destroy himself before he let Harry be darkened by it.
They hadn't yet agreed on what to do with Dumbledore. Vlad was adamant about doing it for Harry, but they mightn't even need to actually bother as the headmaster was dying anyway. At worst, it would be ending it on his own terms without the risk of the task turning to someone who took great pleasure in the torment before the death.
But it was still a kill. If murder split Riddle's soul when he had no reverence for human life whatsoever, even a mercy killing had to affect the hand dealing it.
Vlad left early, still somewhat sombre but apparently reaching some acceptance for what he had had to do. Harry got up, washed and dressed and started packing for the return to Hogwarts the following day. He and Draco spent their morning flying for fun, the afternoon playing with Raven who was an endless source of joy for all involved. Harry would miss her terribly when back at school.
"You be the best little terror you can be while we're gone, yes? I want lots of stories from your dads about how much you keep them on their toes."
"Please abstain from corrupting my daughter at such a young age."
"So we should wait until she's older?"
Severus glared, but as someone who spent their time with Dracula's, Harry wasn't really affected. Nevertheless, he and Draco laughed hysterically as Raven started feeding her yogurt to Phantom, who came right up to lick the little toddler spoon. She too was immune to Severus glares, but Bertrand shooed the familiar away and finished feeding Raven with a clean spoon.
As they sat drinking hot chocolate that evening, Harry watched Draco scratching absently at his wrist. It took him a minute to register the irritation showing there, skin reddened and starting to crack in places. Bertrand noticed when he drew blood, grabbing Draco roughly to stop the scratching and sniffing at the offending wrist - the one Draco still wore a silver bracelet on.
The bracelet he wore to ensure his lycanthropy had stayed cured. The same cure given to Remus, and to dozens more wolves as Vlad kept curing them on the sly and frustrating Riddle as he lost track of what should have been his pack of animals.
"What day is the full moon?"
-YDHP-
Not quite within a week, I think. But first chapter of 2018! I hope everyone had a good one. I didn't but then I never do. Onwards and upwards though eh?