Disclaimer: I do not own any Characters or Plot Lines featured in Harry Potter books or films. I do, however, stake claim on Erasmus and his wit.

A/N: I know, I know. I haven't updated in forever. Sometimes it is hard writing four stories at once. l. At any rate, here is a chapter, finally. Enjoy!

Once Harry had opened the chamber, Erasmus grabbed his hand and with a snap of his fingers, they were down inside the chamber.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked, wondering.

"It really isn't anything special. We, of the vampiric persuasion, like to call it 'blinking'." Erasmus replied.

Harry nodded. The old vampire really was weird. "Sir...why are you interested in basilisks?"

Erasmus began to laugh. "I was, as they call it, pulling your leg. I have never eaten a basilisk, and never plan to do so."

Harry glared at the elder vampire. "What did you do that for?"

Erasmus pulled Harry close. "To get down here, of course. This is one of the few unplottable places inside Hogwart's. It is a good place to discuss that which does not need to be known by compromised ears."

Harry coughed, not sure of what was about to happen.

"You see, I must make sure that I have gotten all of him out of your head."

Harry looked at Erasmus, puzzled. "Him who?"

"The 'I' of which you have met and interacted."

Harry thought that Erasmus' reply was probably one of the oddest patterns of speech he had ever heard. "You mean the portrait."

Erasmus smiled. "Precisely, dear child."

"I don't feel any different. Things are fine." Harry answered; trying to get the elder vampire to stop worrying about him. They didn't truly care for him, so why did he need the third degree?

Erasmus looked into Harry's eyes with a knowing smile. "It seems we have made a mess of things…I never intended for this to go so badly. You see, I only want happiness for my kin. You were in need of a father, Draco was in need of his father. I felt that with Severus' depressing attitude, if he had several charges to care for, perhaps his life would turn out better, and as a result, the two of you would benefit as well…Unfortunately, it seems that all I have managed to do is alienate the lot of you."

Harry paused. The old vampire's eyes showed years of pain. Harry touched the man's mind with his senses, he was telling the truth. "He hates me."

Erasmus looked at Harry in shock. "Who hates you?"

"Severus, of course. He hated me from the first day I walked into the school. Simply because I was James Potter's son…And just when I thought I might have actually won him approval, I was tossed aside. It's no wonder that Draco hates him. We both have been thrown aside like hand me downs. What's the use of being alive if this is all it has to offer."

Erasmus scratched his head thoughtfully. "Harry, I am not going to speak to you about giving Severus any more chances. Whether the two of you manage to have any sort of companionship is not up to me. It is up to the both of you. Call it wishful thinking, but I believe that if you and Draco cease vying for Severus' undivided attention, perhaps, all of you can get what you long for…But then, what do I know, I am nothing but a centuries old vampire who knows nothing."

Harry couldn't help himself and laughed. "Sometimes, I think that you are more manipulative than Dumbledore."

Erasmus smiled. "Come now, we must talk strategy."

Draco woke with a pounding headache. Damn his father for not caring, damn Erasmus for throwing him into his bedroom, damn the sun for making his head hurt more. He slowly sat up on the side of his bed, praying for the nausea to pass. Suddenly, the bile rose in this throat and Draco dashed to the loo.

It felt as if his insides were trying to turn themselves inside out. He wretched in heaves, groaning. Finally, he collapsed against the cool tile of the floor; his eyes closed. Suddenly, a cooling wetness wiped across his head. He began to move.

"Stop, Draco. Don't move. Just lie still." Severus spoke in a soothing voice. "It's better if you get it all out of your system."

Draco rolled to his side, clutching his head.

"I will not give you the talking you surely deserve. I believe that your punishment has come swift." Severus once again wiped the cloth across his son's forehead. "Maybe you won't be so quick to drink next time."

At the mere mention of alcohol, Draco found himself retching once again. He had never been this sick. "Isn't there a potion to keep this from happening?"

Severus chuckled. "Actually, there is, but of course, Erasmus saw to it that the both of us were to remain in our quarters for the rest of the evening. Perhaps this was his punishment."

Draco moaned. "Does he ever stop?"

Severus chuckled. "Stop what?"

"Interfering."

"No. He never does. This entire situation should be your proof to that. Sometimes, I honestly wonder what he can be thinking."

Draco laughed, then moaned in pain. "I think that if he continues, he is going to be the death of both of us."

Severus smiled. "I truly hope not."

The night had come alive. Small heartbeats tapped out their rhythm. It was exciting, invigorating. It was something that no night creature could ever forget; the freedom of power.

Voldemort felt the power coarse through his veins. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt more alive in death than he had ever had. He was a god.

He could see everything. The veins in the leaves were just as visible as the bark of a tree. He could hear the heart of an ant beating furiously as it crossed the forest floor. He could taste the moisture in the air. This was the man he was meant to be.

He looked around the confines of the Forbidden Forest. It had been so easy to get inside the grounds. His new powers ensured that. Oh yes, Harry Potter would die. He could feel the victory; taste it.

He looked across the grounds from his hiding place. "How peaceful she sleeps?" He thought about Hogwart's. And soon, very soon, he would waken her. The blood of Harry Potter would be his, for all eternity. And those who chose to stand against him, would become his rotting pets of undead flesh. His minions to spread his seed throughout the world.

The world was his for the taking, muggle and wizarding world alike. He felt so powerful that he truly believed that no one or no thing could stop him. The only piece he could not decide on was whether to kill Harry Potter first or last. Somehow, first seemed much too simple. Let the boy suffer; see his friends die. Harry Potter would be the last to die, and he would be there to taste lap the blood from his fallen enemy's flesh.