Disclaimer: I do not own.

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Rapprochement // renewal of friendly relations

"Bollocks!"

Harry dodged through the crowd of muggles, struggling to remain at a human speed and not mow anyone down with his trunk. King's Cross was crowded, and Harry needed to get to the barrier that led to Platform 9 ¾. It had taken longer than he had thought it would to find a person to serve as a meal in the early morning rush; there were just so many people running around muggle London. More people meant less hiding places, which had ended up delaying Harry to the point where the train would soon be leaving.

He didn't bother slowing as the pillar for the barrier came into view, running headlong through the deceptive stone. His eyes brightened as he took in the sight of the train, smoke billowing from it as it prepared to depart. Harry had made it with only two minutes to spare.

He lifted his trunk rather easily onto the train, pulling it along behind him down the carriage with a barely suppressed grin. In his years in Sceaduwe Citadel, he had found it easiest to not think about the friends and places he had left behind. The first year had been more than difficult, closing his eyes and wondering how Ron or Hermione or any of this other friends were doing or what they were up to. But he had grown past it, locking his memories of his loved ones away so he could concentrate on his goals.

Now, though… now he was back. This was the Hogwart's Express, the red steam engine that had taken him straight into his fairytale land all those years ago. He was going to the one place he had counted as home in his young life. Nothing could ruin his mood now.

But of course, fate could try.

"Well, well, Potter. All alone, I see? Did your friends finally get sick of your stench, or did you just get bored of watching the Weasel and the Mudblood fornicate with their eyes?" came a familiar drawl as the train pulled away from King's Cross.

Harry had an urge to laugh. The statement, despite how rude to his friends it was, was almost amusing; Draco's wit had always been rather blasé in his memory. But mostly, it was amusing that the first person Harry ran into, of all the students on the train, was this one. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about how his pretty father was doing, but Harry decided that was a bit too forward.

He smirked rather than the blowup that was expected of him, causing the Malfoy heir's eyebrows to rise. "You are not worth my time right now, Draco," Harry purred, accentuating the blond's name. "So why don't you run off to your cronies or your little pet pug? With the way you walk around with your nose up in the air, they can spend the train ride entertaining themselves by counting your nostril hairs."

Pale skin darkened in indignant anger and Draco was already fumbling for his wand. "How dare you?!"

"'How dare I' what? Insinuate you had nose hair? I hardly insulted you directly at all compared to what you said," he pointed out, trying to remember he had to act like the Golden Boy and not let his snark be so obvious. He schooled his face into a scowl. "Now get out of my way so I can find my friends."

Draco didn't budge. Silver eyes scanned over Harry, confusion obvious on the boy's face. Harry didn't dare show his amusement with the inspection. In front of Malfoy, he supposed it wouldn't be so bad if he seemed strange. After all, the worst thing Draco could do would be to tell his father. But he had to be careful if Ron or Hermione were around. It wouldn't do, after all, to have someone run to Dumbledore so early in the game.

But Harry simply didn't want the younger Malfoy to know. It would take all the fun out of his game.

"I said move, Malfoy." Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Why should I, Potty?" Draco retorted, quickly collecting himself into the pompous ass Harry remembered. "Just what do you think you'll do if I don't?"

He stifled his annoyance. "Nothing you could stop," he said dryly, eyeing the wiry frame of the blond. At six feet tall, Malfoy was actually had a few inches on Harry's twenty-five year old body, though Harry was broader across the shoulders and more defined. Though the blond had tone from Quidditch, he would never lower himself to do something as plebeian as martial arts or weight training, so even without revealing himself Harry knew he could take him on one handed and blindfolded. "Where are your cronies, anyway, Malfoy? No one to follow your every whim this year?"

The darkening of silvery eyes told Harry he had hit a nerve. His smirk widened.

"Ah, does it have anything to do with Daddy Dearest's stay in Azkaban? The snakes are wary to follow the son of a convict, aren't they?"

"Shut up!" Draco hissed, face reddening. He whipped out his wand and held it hard against Harry's throat, and Harry tried to pretend to be afraid. "It's your fault! You destroyed my family!"

"Have you ever considered that it was your dad's fault for being there? I only pointed him out."

"Shut up!" Draco screeched. "If it wasn't for your big mouth, it never would have happened! Saint Potter, poor little Gryffindor orphan boy. Just because your stupid, brainless parents got themselves killed doesn't mean you have to ruin everyone else's family!"

With one blink of green eyes, Harry was in motion, knocking away the rigid arm that held Draco's wand at his throat and twisting it around his childhood rival's back. A cold anger stole over Harry's features as he pushed Draco against the wall, his body holding him in place. "Listen to me, Malfoy, you naïve little child. Actions dictate consequences, and your father was stupid enough to get caught. You're lucky he is alive and at home and not soulless on some filth covered floor in Azkaban rotting."

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself to get actually angry. He thought it must have been just before he'd left this time period and he'd destroyed Dumbledore's office after Sirius' death, because nothing but family could bring this kind of rage out in him. His temper had cooled exponentially in his years away, but there would always be some part of him that held his Gryffindor temperament. He continued the hissed litany into Malfoy's ear, whose eyes were now wide and panicked. "I would suggest you stay the hell out of my way, and if you ever insult my parents again, I will make you regret it."

He released the shaking blond, sneering down at him and thanking his stars that no other students had come this far down the train. The fight had taken no more than five minutes, but it could have ended badly if Harry had let his temper reign. Without another word he spun on his heel and grabbed his trunk, hoisting it over Draco and continuing to the next train car, to the compartment he and his friends usually used.

He didn't bother turning around, but if he had, he would have seen the calculating glint that entered Draco's eyes and the contemplative look that didn't fade as the blond stood and went in the opposite direction.

Veelas, a magical race, were beautiful women with pale hair and perfect skin, able to entrance men into weakness. They had volatile tempers that transformed them into intimidating, winged beasts when provoked. They had mates which they would protect at the cost of their own life, and could control fire. That is what textbooks told students in Hogwarts.

The books, however, did not mention that males could carry Veela blood just as well as a female.

Being a Veela male was nothing special, really. Males did not have mates or scary alter-egos to deal with, though their tempers were still something to cower away from. There was no thrall or elemental command, no matter how much one might wish for them. However, holding the blood of a Veela in your veins did have certain perks, ones that Draco Malfoy was glad for. As with any magical creature, Draco's senses were much more in tune than a human's. He was only half Veela, as both of his parents were, but that hardly diluted the innate abilities the blood held. For Veela, sight was the most poignant of the senses, though scent came a close second.

There was something absolutely wrong with Harry Potter. Draco stayed lost in thought as he trekked back to his own compartment. There was just something off about the Golden Boy, and Draco was determined to find out what it was and find a way to use it against him. Being young and relatively sheltered as he was, Draco didn't understand the strange… feel of the Gryffindor, having nothing in his life experience to compare it to; however, Draco was an intelligent young man, and when he set his mind to something, he achieved it.

He would figure out what was different with Potter.

"Ronald Weasley, if you think you can just quit Potions and be done with it, you have another thing coming!"

"Aww, come on, Hermione…you sound like my mom…"

"And I suppose that's terrible since you don't listen to your mother anyway! I can't believe that you actually purposely did badly on your OWL--"

"But I didn't! It's not my fault that I don't understand it, I mean, Snape doesn't even try to teach it right!"

"Excuses! I know you better than that, Ronald, and you had better believe that I will be petitioning Professor McGonagall to see that both you and Harry end up in NEWTS Potions! Honestly! Harry especially needs this knowledge, I can't see them just letting Professor Snape keep all but two or three students out of the class…"

"Oi! Harry!" Ron interrupted quickly, grinning at his friend who he had finally noticed at the door.

"Now don't change the subject Ron," Hermione continued. "Potions is a vital class, and what about wanting to be an Auror? You can't be one without having passed your Potions NEWT! It will be my personal…" Warm brown eyes locked on Harry's smiling form in the doorway to the compartment, and Hermione's face lit up. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, leaping over to engulf her long-time friend in a hug. Harry was disgusted with himself when he felt tears prick the back of his eyes as he returned the embrace, taking in the familiar scent of one of his closest friends as he struggled to maintain his passively happy mask.

"Did ya have a good summer, mate?" Ron blurted, before his face screwed up in consternation, obviously regretting the question. Hermione clenched her hands at her side as she stepped back from Harry, meeting his eyes hesitantly.

Harry didn't begrudge them their wariness; from what he remembered of his fifth year, he had been a total prat. So it was a surprise to them both when Harry smiled shakily, suddenly thankful for the conflicting emotions that were still running through him as he prepared to act for those who had known him best at this age. "It's alright, guys. You… don't have to walk on eggshells around me, you know."

Hermione's sharp gaze was flicking over him intently, making Harry more nervous than he had been since Valerian had decided to test him in a duel. Hermione was the one who would expose him in the end, he knew. No one else was as quick as her, and she would eventually put the pieces together. It was his ability to keep it from her that would determine if his mission would be successful. He knew it would seem rather our of character for him to appear 'alright'… but honestly, he couldn't bear to try and be the same angst-ridden, tantrum-throwing boy he had been in his fifth year. He wanted to relish the time he would have left with his friends, not squander it by pushing them away. He knew it would only cause it to hurt worse in the end… but he couldn't help it.

He had already thought it over. Death often had a profound effect of the people close to the deceased. He could just as easily blame his new disinterested and 'studious' nature on coming to terms with the loss of Sirius, saying that he needed time to recover. This would allow him to be happy with Ron and Hermione, but hopefully cast suspicion off when he got into the moods he often fell into. It would also help excuse the unexplained absences and time alone, which Harry thought was a good thing. If Hermione was too worried about his wellbeing, she would watch his every move… but if he seemed to be coping, he would have a lot more time to himself.

Hermione seemed pleased with whatever she had found, because she pulled him into another tight hug. Harry mentally sighed in relief and grinned at the two before Hermione started on her rant once more, now tugging Harry into it. A long-suffering look from Ron was all it took for Harry to burst into genuine laugher.

It was good to be home.

"Well, it wasn't so bad really, because Gran set up a greenhouse for my birthday this year, so I spent most of the summer tending my new Fanged Geraniums. Oh, Harry, you should see my Mimbulus mimbletonia now! It's gotten huge!" Neville exclaimed as he, Ginny, Harry, and Ron walked from the carriages to the school doors. Harry chuckled and smiled as the normally shy boy waxed poetic about his biggest passion.

Hermione had Prefect duties with Professor McGonagall and had gone straight to her when the carriages stopped, leaving Harry with the other Gryffindors. He smiled as he listened to the mundane conversations; Ginny went on about which boys looked more attractive this year, Neville on his plants, Ron on who would be Quidditch captain that year. Though he smiled outwardly, inside he was feeling more and more weight pressed down on his shoulders. He had always felt 'older' than his classmates, what with his childhood and responsibilities, but now the ten-year age difference made it all the more pronounced. His smile turned into grimace as they neared the Entry Hall, though he struggled to maintain his carefree appearance.

"So Harry," Ginny spoke up from his left. "You're going to take back over as Seeker this year, right? I mean, stupid Umbridge's ban won't stay in effect, obviously…"

Harry sighed internally and thought this over. Did he want to continue Quidditch? No, he thought. It would be more of a distraction and hindrance. But he knew very well that he couldn't say that. "Dunno, really. I might, but I think you're doing fine in the position. You're a credit to the team." Harry gave her a small smile, ignoring the slight blush that graced the girl's cheeks. Paying any attention to it would only give Ginny the wrong idea.

They were entering the castle when all of Harry's senses screamed.

Another disadvantage to not having submitted to a full Change was his senses. Though he could 'feel' people, he could not differentiate one person from another. He could feel the difference between a werewolf and a human, but he couldn't tell which werewolf or human they were. It was rather annoying, but in this case he thanked his senses as they alerted him to a powerful vampiric presence nearby.

One of Harry's hands casually thumped against his leg, reaffirming to himself that his dagger was still strapped to his thigh under his robes. A thin sheen of sweat was already appearing on his forehead; a vampire in the school was going to be a disaster, because a vampire in the school meant someone who would know he was one, and that could blow his cover before the school year even began. Harry was tense and on guard now; thankfully his friends were too involved in their conversations to notice his unease.

He entered the Great Hall with trepidation, eyes scanning the room before falling on the High Table. Dumbledore was twinkling merrily in sky blue robes, obviously pleased with the start of a new school year. Severus Snape and McGonagall's empty chair sat on either side of him, the Potion's master sitting with a petulant frown on his face per usual. The other teachers sat chatting happily, from Hagrid at the far right to Sinistra at the far left. Just as Harry nearly gave up, he found his answer.

His eyes widened comically as he stopped in his tracks, spying the one of the last people he had ever thought he would see in Hogwarts.

Dante.

A shoulder colliding with his own reminded Harry that he was blocking traffic, so he quickly maneuvered himself to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the conversations around him. Harry seethed, jaw tight, peeking at the disinterested blond through his fringe. Dante appeared to not even be paying attention, his eyes fixed on the enchanted ceiling as he looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. Then again, as well as Harry knew Dante, he figured the vampire did want to be anywhere but there. He hated children, so why in the world was he there?

Why hadn't Dante ever told him that he had taught at Hogwarts? Wasn't that something that might be mildly important?!

As he watched, feline blue eyes finally left the ceiling and fell directly onto him. Harry sucked up his irritation and met the gaze evenly, giving a small nod to the elder vampire. In return, he got the barest hint of a smile, something you had to really know Dante to see, and Harry's irritation suddenly dwindled to nothing as shock took its place. There was recognition in those eyes. Dante knew him.

Dante must have read his incredulous expression, because one shoulder rose in a shrug. Harry nearly laughed aloud and quickly turned his attention away from the blond, not wanting anyone to notice their attention to one another. This was brilliant, an answer to his every anxiety. He had no idea why Dante was there, but he was glad for it.

Dumbledore stood and gave his usual beginning of the year speech, grinning at the student body. The speech included warnings about Voldemort, about safety and working together to overcome obstacles. He preached to his students in a blinding display of hypocrisy, and Harry had to look down to hide his sneer.

"And finally, one more announcement before I give you leave to tuck in to your wonderful feast. Our Defense Against the Dark Arts position will this year be held by Mister Dante Pierce. Please welcome Professor Pierce."

Applause came then, many of the girls tittering and trying to catch blue eyes as the golden-blond stood and bowed. Harry rolled his eyes and applauded, his suspicions proved to be correct. He wouldn't be alone this year. Thank Merlin. Now, if he could find an excuse to talk to the vampire in private, he could find out why. Damn if he didn't think Valerian had something to do with it.

Dante let his eyes roam over the entering students, only centuries of training keeping his eye from twitching in annoyance. He hated children, he hated ignorance, and he hated teaching those he didn't see as having talent. Naturally, then, it seemed one of the stupidest moves of his life to have forced his way into a position teaching a bunch of untrained little monsters. And in some ways, it really was. He looked to the ceiling in annoyance, rather secretly enamored by the strength of magic it must have taken to replicate the outside sky.

But being immortal had many perks, one of them being patience. Dante had a lot of that. He had once spent nearly a decade in meditation, only waking to feed when he could no longer bear the hunger pangs, to try and find the cause of his dual magic. No other in history had managed to keep Wizarding magic while developing Vampire magic. It was simply unheard of. But he had managed it somehow. The long years of exploring every nuance of his magical systems had given him no further answers, either.

Now here he was, having killed off a potential staff member in order to be sure he would be unopposed for a position. Horace Slughorn had been easy to find and even easier to kill, the fat man whimpering pitifully as he'd died. Dante had had no remorse; such things as regret and guilt were rid from a vampire early on. Honestly, he wasn't sure he had ever felt anything like sorrow towards his victims, even in the very beginning.

His first kill, after all, had been his brother. A traitor. The man who had killed his wife for information of his whereabouts. The turncoat bastard had killed her for a mere handful of gold--

Now was not the time for such things, though, and Dante irritably pushed his hand through his hair, though he knew it to look bored to anyone observing. Centuries of practice had had him nearly unable to show emotion unless he consciously forced himself to, and even then he was so out of practice that it was likely to look false. But when his eyes fell on the young version of his Mylläkkä, he honestly had to stifle a snicker.

The boy was staring drop-jawed at him, all his careful training forgotten, blocking the flow of students entering the hall. It was amusing, really, but Dante was going to do a number on him later for forgetting himself so easily. A decade wasn't all that long, after all, and the boy had so very much to learn.

Finally Harry managed to move, giving a slight nod as he moved to take his seat, which Dante returned with an amused look. The boy again looked flummoxed. Dante gave the boy a shrug and proceeded to ignore the young vampire completely, surely annoying him even more. Hopefully he wouldn't do anything stupid. Dante would talk to him after his last class the next day.

Class. Teaching. Dante groaned inwardly and went back to looking at the ceiling. How annoying.

"It seems like it's been a long time, don't you think?" Neville asked quietly, leaning against the opposite sill from Harry as they both gazed out over the grounds.

"Yeah…" said Harry, his fingers twitching at his side at the unknowing truth of the statement. "Every time I come back here I feel like I've been gone years. This place… it is the only home I've got, really."

Neville nodded in concurrence. The boys had begun really speaking the year before -- fifth year, that was -- having realized the similarities they bore. Born near the same time, losing their parents to Voldemort, being raised by people not necessarily the best caretakers out there. Neville's grandmother wasn't a cruel woman, of course, but she was strict and had spent years and years lamenting Neville not being more like his parents. Both Harry and Neville were aware that Augusta really did love her grandson, but she just didn't have the best way of showing it; her love and respect for his parents often ended up overshadowing her good sense. It had done horrible things to the boy's self esteem, but Harry thought that being out on his own and finding his niche had done wonders for him.

Harry had tried his best in fifth year to pull that confidence out of Neville, slowly but surely exposing a real person from beneath the overlooked shell. It seemed the Department of Mysteries debacle had furthered his progress, as the boy had an air about him this year that Harry didn't remember him having the last time he'd seen him. It was refreshing.

They had started this ritual in their second year; on their first night back, both would stand at the largest window of their dorm room and stare out over the Hogwarts grounds, relishing simply in being there. While they hadn't talked at first, by fourth year they had stayed up half the night just talking quietly to the background noise of Ron's snores and Seamus's habitual mumbling.

It was for Neville that Harry seriously considered leaving Bellatrix alive. She had stolen Neville's parents in a way somehow much worse than his own parents had been taken. Sirius had been something resembling an accident; though it had been obviously fortuitous to Bellatrix, it had been an accident nonetheless. Neville's parents, though, had been a malicious and purposeful job. It was not mercy that would stay his hand, but a need to make the bitch suffer. He would torture her happily for any defiance, but he would leave her death to Neville. When he got the courage, he would have his revenge, Harry would be sure of it.

"Have I shown you my new wand yet, Harry?" Neville asked after a few minutes more of silence, smiling gently in the moonlight.

It took Harry several moments of thought before deciding he most likely hadn't seen the wand. If Neville had gotten it in the remaining days before classes ended, he didn't know; small memories like that were fuzzy at best. "No, Nev, let's see it."

Confidence and pride bloomed on the sixteen year old's face as he pulled out the cherry wand, presenting it to Harry. This seemed to be a huge source of the air Neville now held. Perhaps it would even improve his magic; Harry was sure having a wand suited to him would really boost his ability to perform. His magic would never be strong, per se, but with confidence he could easily hold his own now.

"Cherry, good wand for you. Cherry wood stands for rebirth and new awakenings, you know."

Neville beamed. "I know, I looked it up. Gran was so proud. I… I just feel…"

"Good?"

"Yeah. Good. I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Last year you showed me I could be my own person… I don't even think this wand could have helped me without all you did."

Harry smiled softly. "Don't thank me, Neville. I'm your friend, after all. I always knew you had it in you."

Neville beamed again and the two went back to staring out over the glassy surface of the lake, Hogsmeade's lights shining in the darkness. Harry could wait to feed; this was a tradition that bore standing. Even if he was losing everyone around him… at least he could have moments like this to hold him.

Revised: 3/18/09