Disclaimer: -is sad- No, for my birthday I did not get the rights to Harry Potter. Jo considered it, but in the end she's just not a slash fan. ;) Sad for us! SAD!

//This is Parseltongue.//

WARNING: I know I said I was done… but… a bit of HarryLucius sexual tension (-cough-minorsmut-cough-) in this chapter. Really done now. I just can't seem to keep them away from each other…

Paraselenic

Evanescent // fleeting; disappearing after only a short time

The second the dizzying feeling of the portkey ended, Draco's furious face was turned to the tiny floating section of Harry's face that was visible, "You…"

Harry pulled off his cloak indifferently, drawing his Blackthorn wand from his sleeve and rolling it between his fingertips, eyes set on the incensed younger Malfoy. "Yes, Little Pretty?" Harry flicked a long tendril of hair from his face, tilting his head. "Your face is rather pink. It's truly not your color."

The blond's color rose yet higher and Harry could see him struggling to maintain his Slytherin mask. Lucius sighed inaudibly from his side and turned slightly to face Harry. "My lord, if I may? I think my son needs time to reconcile with the knowledge of your identity."

"No, Lucius, I think you're wrong," said Harry, his eyes flicking back to silver. "I think he needs to understand. It's bad enough I have to deal with Severus on a daily basis and the ginormous stick up his arse, I don't want to have to contend with your brat tripping me up every other step. He could end up an asset or a hindrance. I would like to try for asset, if you don't mind."

The angry tinge to Draco's cheeks seemed to lessen as Harry spoke, the slightest confused furrow of his brow marring his face. Harry took this as a good sign.

Lucius pursed his lips but bowed, locking eyes with Harry. "As you wish. But please…" Lucius couldn't seem to let his sentence continue, the mere word 'please' having strained him. Harry smiled softly, becoming oddly endeared to the toff man.

He flicked his wand back into his sleeve. "I only want to speak to him, Pretty. No worries." He looked back to sliver eyes. "Walk with me, Little Pretty?"

A scowl. "You could at least call me by my given name," Draco said in a tight voice, and Harry found it amusing that his childhood rival actually had the capacity to compromise.

"Fine, Draco. Show me the grounds?"

The left the Entry Hall to Lucius mumbling about why Harry hadn't listened to him when he'd asked to be called by his name, Harry chuckling and following the younger of the two blonds. He smiled serenely as Draco pointed out the Pegasus stables and the non-regulation Quidditch Pitch. He snorted as he noticed at least a dozen white peacocks roaming the grounds, wondering whose touch that had been. It was feminine enough to have been Narcissa, but it was amusing to think it could have been Lucius. He thought it redundant and pretentious to place animals associated with wealth in such an obviously rich atmosphere, but no one ever said the Malfoys were simple.

Harry was amused by the haughty tone that was slowly returning to Draco's voice as he spoke, not even noticing that Harry hadn't been paying attention. "And this," he said with a regal wave of his hand, "is the Manor Garden. Only the most rare and beautiful plants have been included, imported from all over the planet. You will find no better private garden anywhere." Draco sniffed. "Obviously. Malfoys never settle for less than the best."

Harry let out a soft laugh. "Oh, obviously."

Draco jumped and lightened a few shades, obviously having forgotten whom he was leading. "Yes, well…"

Harry brushed past the teen with a smirk, walking with a sway to his hips into the grandiose garden, eying the ornate fountain in the center. He walked slowly, wary of anything that might jump out at him in a magical garden, eyes lazily darting from side to side. He spotted a rather eye-catching purple bloom and stopped, looking down to it before dropping to his knees and pulling a creeping weed from where it was tangling around the base of the stem. He set it aside after assuring himself it wasn't anything animated, smoothing over the soil where he had disrupted it.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy suddenly asked, and Harry didn't have to see the other boy's face to know he was sneering. "From Dark Lord to House Elf?"

Harry laughed quietly, flicking a glance over his shoulder as he moved to pull another weed. "House Elf, am I?" he chuckled again in a calm way. "Tell me, Draco, did your parents hug you when you were a child?"

The voice was hesitant and confused. "Of course they did."

"Did your mother tuck you in at night? Your father teach you to ride a broom?"

The sneer was back in full force. "Is this going to be some orphan spiel, Potter? Pathetic."

Harry laughed again and sat back on his heels, brushing the dirt from his hands and leaning back onto them in the soft, magically-maintained grass. "I think not. I was just wondering. Your parents seem so cold, but as I've gotten to know your father I've noticed how different he can be. He loves you very much."

Draco scowled at the ground across from Harry, but seemed to sacrifice his pride as he dropped gracefully to the grass. "I think you've taken getting to know him far too far, Potter."

Harry smiled serenely. "Ah, perhaps."

"You're far too amused by the knowledge that you've molested my father."

"Perhaps again." Harry's smile widened mischievously. "Just feel lucky I seem to be attracted to the older aristocratic types… if you were a decade or so older I'd probably hit on you as well."

Draco made a face but couldn't stop his face from turning pink. "Prat."

Harry watched the dark clouds crowding the sky and wondered if they would finally get the first snow of the season. The air was sharper than it had been the last few weeks, a nip in the wind that hadn't been there previously even in up in Scotland. It would be strange to see snow in Wiltshire this early in the winter, but he knew not to rule out the possibility. Rain, at least, was a surety. (1)

Harry tilted his head back to stare at the grey-covered sky, twitching uncomfortably as he felt his long hair pool on the ground. He had forgotten how annoying his excessively long hair was, but after having spent long months of not having it, he found a new appreciation for it. No matter how many times he had complained to Valerian about its length, it was a comfort to have it back. Harry pulled out his wand, ignoring Draco's flinch, and released the spell he reflexively applied whenever he Reverted. The spell that kept his long brownblack hair framing his face dissipated and let the tapered bangs hair fall back from his forehead, leaving his famous scar visible. It was faded after years without visions or agitation, but it remained ever etched there.

He felt Draco's eyes on him and tilted his head back forward, green meeting silver. "Yes?"

"How have you changed this much?" Draco asked in a blasé tone, though the curiosity was obvious in his eyes. "You get my father arrested as a scrawny twat, and you come back after summer some…" Draco's face pinked again and he waved his hand. "Like this! And suddenly allying with the Dark Lord! It makes no sense!"

Harry smirked and went back to watching the crawling grey clouds. "Not everyone has had the life you have, Draco."

"Don't start wittering on with the orphan thing again."

"Oh, stuff it." Harry sighed. "I didn't witter then and I'm not going to now."

"Do go on, then."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to throw a pity party over my shitty life; I don't want to say it and you don't want to hear it. But I will tell you that Voldemort," Draco flinched, "and I grew up in the same way. Upon entering the Wizarding world I was suddenly vaunted as a hero and told my parents died to save my life. Until then, I had been told they had died while driving drunk. Think of Apparating drunk and it is about the same amount of taboo. Suddenly I was loaded with the expectations of an entire culture on my shoulders. I was eleven years old. Of course I wanted to be brave like my parents, of course I didn't want to be like the man who had killed them or the boy who acted just like my spoilt bully of a cousin."

"You were also an idiot," Draco said with an obvious pout that Harry easily ignored.

"In any case, after my godfather was killed, I was given an out of that life… the life where I was treated like absolute crap half the time and even worse when opinions were good. So I went away. Except," Harry paused and thought of how to word it, "there was something that made me come back. It wasn't even the prophecy, but the expectations on me were huge, and Dumbledore was too dangerous to leave unfettered. He would ruin the Wizarding world if left to his own devices, or else the war would destroy it for him. So I came back… time travel, if you must know, Vampire magic… to end it. I just might not be ending it the way they all wanted me to."

"By joining with the man who killed your parents?" There was no mockery in the tone, and that was the only reason Harry answered.

"That wasn't my first option, but it ended up the best. And I'm glad I did, honestly. I think we can make this world great."

"The Wizarding world is already great," the blond sneered, lip curled.

"You're lucky you aren't a Death Eater, Draco, or I would have cursed you for that," Harry said in an amused voice, watching from the corner of his eye as an color Malfoy had drained. "But since you are not, I will warn you. Don't talk down to me."

"Y-yes, of course."

"Anyway, I believe we can make this world great, improve upon what exists and take away the fears of the people. Restrictions on muggleborns to increase security, mixing of different magical blood to enrich the lines… we won't be exposed and we can flourish. Voldemort and I working together could well end up the best thing to ever happen to the magical world."

Draco was frowning but nodded slightly. "Why tell me all this? You hate me and I can't say I'm all that fond of you either. What is the point?"

"I don't hate you, Little Pretty." He ignored the glare. "Honestly, I hardly remember much of our encounters. So, while I do not hate you, I think very little of you. I am giving you the chance to change that." He cut off the blond before he could insert the sarcastic retort that was sure to follow such a proclamation. "Think twice before you answer, Draco. I am now the partner to the Dark Lord. Your aspirations include being a Death Eater, yes? What better way to be sure you receive the rank I am sure you believe you deserve?"

"What would you have me do?" the blond asked, an uncaring mask over his face.

"Do? Help me take Hogwarts. I need people to help me with that. Call a truce with Harry Potter on the outside and begin showing me people you trust who have our goals. I need a force to leave behind after I take down Dumbledore, people intelligent enough to make sure the truth is known. My plans for Dumbledore are solo, but I may need diversions in the meantime. It isn't anything more than a more proactive version of what you're already doing. Can you handle this?"

Draco paused for many long minutes, staring at the same point in the sky that Harry had studied minutes prior. Harry remained silent, knowing the blond's intelligence ranked with Hermione's and with his ideals he would surely agree. Survival of the fittest, after all, was high up on a Slytherin's creed. And if he could help himself be the fittest? Well, all the better.

"Fine, Potter," Draco said with a curt nod. "But don't expect me bowing to you!"

"Not in school, Malfoy, but you need to remember that I am not your equal. If you accept this, out of public you will show subservience."

Draco grimaced and grumbled under his breath, obviously unhappy with what he was about to do. He visibly cringed as he held out his hand.

Harry smiled genuinely, wrapping his hand around long fingers. "Deal, then."

Harry swirled the brandy slowly, eyes tracking the ice cubes as they ran around the glass. He and Draco had arrived back in the Manor an hour before and the younger had retired immediately claiming exhaustion, leaving a silent Lucius in the study with his guest. Harry had watched the man for long minutes before turning his gaze on his perpetually-filled glass. Lucius was working on something for the Ministry and couldn't be bothered. Harry didn't mind. The silence was soothing in a way that the boredom at Hogwarts had never been. Here, he had a purpose. He was merely relaxing in the meantime, taking in the sights and sounds of a normal existence.

Harry took another slow sip, letting the drink burn down his throat and warm his stomach. While snow had yet to fall, it was raining heavily and a chill had descended on the Manor. Roaring fires in every fireplace couldn't seem to effect the huge mansion, and though Harry knew a warming charm would be the wizard's solution, he found mild discomfort like cold reminded him of his mortality. It was something every important figure had to keep a grasp on.

A sigh from Lucius drew his attention back up to the man, papers spread before him and long white-blond hair fanned over his shoulders. Every few minutes he would agitatedly push stray hair out of his face or absently blow at a lock that obscured his vision, mind focused on the papers he was perusing. Harry found it terribly amusing.

Patrician features were illuminated in the ambient light, lower lip moving in a way that suggested that Lucius chewed on the inside of it. Harry wondered if he had, as a child, chewed on the lip itself until it had been trained otherwise. Harry smiled as he saw the smallest flash of white teeth that confirmed his first assumption.

"Something amusing, my lord?" Lucius asked, not looking away from the official document.

"No, nothing, Pretty."

Lucius's eyes twitched in an aborted roll, but no comment was made. "Would you like me to summon a House Elf to take you to your rooms?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm amusing myself just fine."

Lucius finally glanced in his direction. "If you are sure, my lord."

Harry's let a small smirk cross his lips that was nearly too fond to be called so. "No need to worry about me, Pretty. I'm used to this by now. Between Tom and Valerian, I've spent entire days of the last year in this position. I have learned to amuse myself."

Lucius let out a hum and went back to his paper, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry stood slowly, a smirk on his lips. He ignored the tensing of the blond's shoulders and slowly carded his fingers through platinum hair, letting his short nails rake against the man's scalp a few times. Harry pulled the strip of leather from where Lucius had discarded it and slowly tied the hair back from the man's face, leaning forward once he had pulled the band tight. "So, Pretty," Harry said, his breath ghosting over the skin of Lucius' neck. "Just where is your… wife?"

The man's eyes stopped darting across the paper but he didn't look up. "Finishing her Yule shopping in Spain. She should be back tomorrow evening or the morning after."

Harry gave a breathy chuckle. "I can't say I'm disappointed that she isn't here, Pretty. I was afraid you and I would get no time to ourselves." Fingers trailed across Lucius's shoulders as Harry leaned forward. "You see… I tend to be rather possessive with my favorite things."

A noise of denial attempted to worm its way out of Lucius' throat, but Harry merely smiled. "No, I do not mean to call you a thing, Pretty… however, you are certainly of my favorites…"

A low exhalation of air was Harry's response, and Harry let his nose press behind the blond's ear and his tongue flick out to taste the hollow there. "M-my lord… perhaps this isn't…"

"Call me Harry, Pretty," he murmured trailing the tongue down and taking a hold of the man's earlobe.

Another exhalation and a grunt of denial. "T-This is not a good…" a moan cut the man off, color flushing his cheeks. Whether he was embarrassed or it was merely in pleasure, Harry didn't know.

Harry lazily trailed a fang down the pulsing jugular, eyes drooping in a sultry cast. He pulled back slowly and blew against Lucius' neck, watching the fine hairs stand on end, "But I must argue, Pretty. This is very good…"

With a muffled groan, Lucius let his head loll back until gray eyes fixing hazily on green.

Harry smiled slightly and leaned over, nibbling leisurely at the pale lower lip and tugging it between his teeth. Another small sound escaped Lucius' mouth that sent a chill down Harry's spine, his fingers digging into the man's shoulder as a slow fire built within him. Not pausing in the slow attentions of his tongue, Harry let his hands roam up the exposed neck to cradle the man's face, inverted though the case may be, dexterous fingers stroking the slanted jaw. He broke apart from Lucius after the slow kiss, smirking down at the man. "Very… very good…"

Lucius' throat worked for several moments before he managed to get a word out, his voice rough as Harry moved to trace lines across the man's throat with his tongue and fangs. "This… I should not be doing this!"

Harry let out a sigh against the man's skin and pulled back to look into gray eyes, breath coming out in sort pants. "Why ever not, Lucius?" he asked with a hiss, drawing out the man's name and relishing in the way gray eyes fluttered.

"I am not a toy," Lucius said in a slow, measured voice, obviously trying to force composure through the vapor of lust surrounding him. "And will not be treated as such… not even by my lord. I will carry out any order… but I will not be made to crumble whenever your whims demand it."

Harry stared for long minutes into Lucius' eyes, startled when he didn't feel amused or angry over the defiance. He felt… proud. Proud that the man had gone from defying him, to respecting him enough to follow him, to finally able to set his own principles down to him. It told Harry that Lucius was growing as a person and that he, himself, was managing his goals well. He wanted to change many things, one of them being how the Death Eaters worked. Fear alone was not enough to rally true support and loyalty.

He smiled, startling the waiting Lucius, and leaned forward, brushing his lips against the older man's. He took the step needed to take him to the man's lap and stood over him, his stomach brushing the blond's chest, "You are right of course. But please," his voice was hoarse as need rose in him once more, "Merlin, please let me taste you one more time."

Lucius groaned and pushed himself up into a dizzying kiss, and Harry let himself be lost in the sensations. The kiss was short but fierce, permission granted as Harry lowered himself into the man's lap and pressed himself hip to chest with him. Teeth nipped and tugged, tongues conflicted, heart rates soared. Harry could never figure out what it was about Lucius. Though the man was improving, he was still in essence an annoying and lordly prat who believed his shite smelt of roses. Though exceptionally attractive, there were others out there as attractive as he was, so it couldn't be merely that. But there seemed to be a… magnetism between them, something that made it nearly impossible to resist leaping on the man every time they were alone.

With a low moan Harry trailed his mouth to the tempting neck and paused, trying to calm his breathing. Perhaps it was this. Perhaps it had been so long since he had had a live and willing donor that his hormones couldn't resist taking advantage. Feeding was a very sensual thing, even in its most violent aspects. You were taking a bit of your victim into yourself, essentially merging for a short time together with them. Taken by force it inflamed power, given freely it invoked passion.

He sank his fangs slowly into the soft skin at the pulse point. Lucius's groan seemed loud in the quiet room, disrupting the sound of the rain falling outside. Harry's eyes rolled back as he drank, his fingers gripping forcefully on the blond's shoulders. The blood made the dizzying feeling from before paltry in comparison, a wave of desire and ecstasy washing over him in a wave. He listened to the man's heartbeat and pushed harder against him as arms wrapped around his waist.

All too soon he heard the telltale slowing and had to pull away, the small pinpricks sealing quickly as he stayed, breathing heavily, leaned against the man's neck. The arms that held him were still tensed but shaking, and Harry knew he should help Lucius to bed before he passed out.

Harry licked his lips and pulled back, half lidded eyes meeting gray before he pressed his lips fleetingly to the other, pulling away and offering his arm. Barely holding onto consciousness, Lucius took it and rose and let Harry lead him to bed.

The next day in Malfoy Manor passed swiftly and surprisingly pleasantly. His truce with Draco was holding well enough; the boy was conceited and a snot, but he was also surprisingly witty and intelligent. Lucius was rather set in his ways, but Harry thought he had a chance to make something of Draco. In fact, when the young blond managed to forget Harry's real identity for minutes at a time, he was nearly enjoyable company.

They had spent a while flying and discussing Quidditch tactics (this conversation had not lasted long, though, as Draco had managed to remember nearly instantly who he was and challenge him to a Seeker's Game), then Harry had spent the afternoon in the library looking through the rare and one-of-a-kind tomes the Malfoys held. Lucius had joined him for a while towards evening once he had returned from the Ministry, and Harry had lost himself in debate over the advantages of using spells that ran the risk of mental damage to the so-called 'safe' ones.

Dinner had been amusing, Draco having forgotten his identity through almost the entire meal and had bandied back and forth with Harry comfortably. Upon remembering his conversation partner was, in fact, Harry Potter, Draco had excused himself quickly, though his curses had carried down the stone passageway. This had made Harry's night.

After drinks with Lucius he had retired early, rising even earlier and setting to making the gift he had decided on for his host. It was the twenty-first now, and he found himself more and more often wondering how long Voldemort would take in being out. Harry wished he had been able to be around more in the last months; he couldn't manage the Death Eaters without Voldemort. He was hardly known at this point and they would not follow him even with his status. That would have to wait until after Hogwarts had fallen, because he just did not have the time to divide between the separate conquests.

It was well after dawn by the time he came out of the trance-like state he had fallen into, and Harry stretched out before going through his morning ritual. A shower, tooth brushing, and change of clothes later, and he was setting out for the dining room. He wasn't sure if Lucius would be awake this early since it was a Saturday, but the man was generally a creature of habit and didn't seem the type to sleep in. Harry let out a yawn as he navigated the twisting hallways of the manor, nodding politely to various portraits on the walls. As he walked he ran his fingers through his hair and drew it back into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, his normal style for it when not doing business or aiming to impress. It was less cumbersome that way.

He was surprised when he entered the dining room to find the entirety of the Malfoy family seated around the table, currently only long enough for the four of them but able to be expanded at a word. He was not noticed immediately and took a moment to look at the group. Draco had a small smile on his lips as his mother raved about something she had seen in Spain, and though Lucius's attention was on his newspaper he had a small quirk to his lips. Narcissa herself looked much different with her face animated than she had in Harry's foggy memory from when he was fourteen.

Her blond hair had more of a golden tint than Lucius or Draco, but her skin was just as perfectly pale and her crystalline blue eyes held the same superior glow to them. She was a beautiful woman, Harry thought, and for just a moment he stood watching the exceedingly beautiful family before him. How could an entire family be that lucky in the gene pool? He supposed it was something to do with their Veela heritage, though they still seemed to end up on the good end of the stick regardless. He laughed silently and noted that he could see features of both parents in the son. And with the nearly regal poise both held, it was no wonder Draco was the way he was.

He sashayed into the room them, bored with watching, catching the attention of all the rooms occupants. Narcissa was observing him with guarded interest, while Lucius simply nodded and turned back to his paper. Draco scowled but gave a stiff tilt of his head in greeting as Harry gave them a wide grin. "Good morning Pretty, Little Pretty. And good morning to you as well, Mrs. Malfoy!" He walked straight to her and took her hand, bowing low over it. "I must say, I would think to refer to you as Beautiful if the word did not seem so pale in comparison of your magnificence!" He pressed a feather-light kiss to the back of her hand, giving a crooked smile as pink dusted her cheeks and a smile fought past her attempt at a dignified bearing.

Draco was making a dry retching noise in the background that Harry ignored, and Lucius had a mildly amused look on his face. "If you are done charming my wife, my lord…"

Harry laughed. "Jealous, Pretty?"

"Really, Potter," Draco said in a weak voice. "Leave my parents alone!"

Narcissa's eyes were round and Harry sent a mild glare at Draco. At least he knew that Lucius had, in fact, kept his identity a secret. "Since Little Pretty has ruined my game, let me introduce myself, my lady. I am Harry James Potter, known as Mylläkkä, and I am charmed to meet you. Please, do call me Harry."

She stared for another moment before collecting herself, inclining her head. "And I am Narcissa Druella Malfoy and ask you call me Narcissa in return. I have heard much about you."

Harry seated himself in the open chair and grabbed a piece of toast to nibble on. "I'm sure nearly none of it was complimentary in either guise," he said slyly, peeking at Lucius from the corner of his eyes and watching the man clear his throat and raise his newspaper to block his face.

Narcissa smiled genially. "At least in your pseudonym, it has become increasingly flattering over the last weeks."

The reason for Lucius hiding his face became clear and Harry gave a roguish grin, ignoring the groan from the youngest Malfoy. "I am pleased to know that, Narcissa. Hopefully I can leave a good impression of my own on you."

Harry had a feeling his days at Malfoy Manor would only get more entertaining.

Severus winced as he was Called, his hand clasping his forearm. It was the day before Christmas Eve and it had been nearly two months since he had felt the pain, the longest time since his lord's rebirth. The stinging reminder of his servitude, per usual, sent messages to his brain.

'Fool. What a dim-witted child you were. Allying yourself with a madman for power -- power he didn't even grant you! A second rate tyrant in a group of misguided hooligans. You became everything you wished to avoid, everything your father was. Magic? What difference does magic make when you're still torturing those weaker than you?'

He forced his mind to stop recriminating him and sucked in a deep breath, gathering the tattered remnants of his dignity around him even as he stood and pulled his Death Eater robes from his wardrobe. Perhaps things would be different now, now that Potter was standing beside the Dark Lord. Now that Potter himself was no longer an obstacle, perhaps they could move towards the goals they had set decades prior instead of meaningless attacks on unarmed opponents.

Perhaps now he could reclaim his pride.

He stalked through the empty corridors with practiced ease, his teaching robes snapping around him. He would not don his Death Eater's robes while still in the school; not those bloodstained things, real or imagined. He wouldn't wear them in the castle no matter the circumstances, even if he didn't have to be as surreptitious as usual since there were so few students remaining for the holidays. He knew the Potter clone was out there somewhere, and he didn't wish to come within twenty yards of the thing. He would have to deal with Potter enough that night.

The night air slammed into him as he exited the castle and he pulled his Death Eater robes over his shoulders, now free of the school and no longer feeling the leaden weight of guilt. With a sigh that produced a puff of visible air, he continued toward the edge of the wards.

He had nearly crossed the gates when he registered the presence behind him, and he nearly hexed the person for being ballsy enough to have followed him. When he caught sight of golden-blond hair, however, he merely grimaced. "What do you need, Pierce?"

The vampire said nothing as he walked up alongside the Potions master, eyebrow quirked. "Who said you could give me anything I would need, Snape?" The voice was toneless, but Snape's spine stiffened, knowing there would be a sneer accompanying it from anyone else.

"You are following me, Pierce, and since I was under the impression that you were not an utter moron, I assumed that meant you had need of me for something. If there is nothing, I am in a hurry."

Dante flicked back a lock of hair, raising an eyebrow silently. "I am following you because I am going to the same place you are. And you will take me there."

"Like hell I will!"

"You will," said Dante as he gripped Severus' upper arm. "And you will not argue with me. Perhaps Mylläkkä allows it, but I will not allow lip from a twofaced, traitorous spy."

Severus drew himself up to his full height, which put him almost perfectly level with the vampire. "And if you think I will let some nonentity like you order me around, you are sorely mistaken, Pierce. While Potter might have authority over me, you have nothing. Now unhand me before I make you unhand me."

"I would like to see you try."

Severus's voice was a rumble as he wrenched his arm away from Dante, black eyes glittering in the moonlight. "You're just like that little shit, aren't you? You get some false idea of power and suddenly you're lording it over anyone you can, content to make their lives miserable. Well let me make this clear, Pierce: I hold the cards. In half a moment I could tell Dumbledore everything, and even if I died I would know it would take him and you down with me."

Dante's blue eyes narrowed and his lip pulled back into a snarl, and Severus was thoroughly shocked by the show of emotion. The man was less expressive than even him, and the expression of fury was unexpected. "Listen to me, Snape. I will not allow you to harm Mylläkkä. Once a traitor, always a traitor, and I am watching you. If you make so much as a twitch that I perceive as you considering giving information over to the old man…"

Dante trailed off and turned his hand to the ground, palm-down, an aura of fiery, crackling magic surrounding it. "I, Durante Lukas Peirno, do pledge on my true name, magic, and the very life that sustains my body that I shall serve as a shield between the one known as Harry James Potter and the one known as Severus Tobias Snape. Should the latter dare to cross the former, I shall guard him. Should the former be endangered by the latter, I forfeit my life in defense. With my life I do pledge," Dante hissed out, the ritualistic words completing with a crackle of magic.

Severus stood frozen, eyes wide. He couldn't move even to let his jaw drop as it wished to. It was not magic that bound him, but a stinging disbelief as he looked into the angry blue eyes of the Vampire before him. The man had just assured his own death should Severus suddenly switch back to the Light and betray Potter. Should any of his actions directly put Harry Potter into jeopardy, the man before him would die.

Dante ran a shaking hand through his hair, visibly blanking his features. If not for the slightly audible pitch of his breathing, Severus might well have believed the calm façade. "Now, are we not late?"

Severus shook his head minutely. "Why?" he hissed in disbelief, his voice hardly a whisper. He wanted to ask 'Why Potter? What is it about the boy that inspires such loyalty?'… but he couldn't. He could hardly breath, let alone speak. "Why?"

His question was understood. "For no other reason than for who he is. Not the name or the background, but for the heart and sincerity. You know nothing of the boy, nothing. I knew him better than you did after one day in his presence, because I was not blinded as you are."

Finally Severus managed to escape the cold grip of shock. "You would risk your immortality for that? Even if he were a saint I would think you a fool!"

Dante smiled wryly, obviously knowing his mask was broken for the time being. "If he were a saint he would not be worth my time. You of all people should understand this. You who, had luck shined upon you, might have been that boy's father." He ignored the scowl that overtook Severus's features. "He is… he is a reflection. Of you, of me. He is everything someone Dark strives to be. He is powerful, cold, and ruthless, yet still able to live. He can still feel, even with the boundaries he has crossed. It is how he was able to attract the Marquis Valerian, how he captured my interest enough to train a novice.

"He is…" Dante waved a hand, glancing around before catching the moon, "Lunar. He is lunar. Not light, but cold, lifeless. However, no matter how dark the moon may be, it is able to conduct the light of the sun, to reflect it. It is Dark that can be Light. A shadow that is a beacon. That is Mylläkkä perfectly."

Severus was silent, but as the vampire had spoken, something has resonated through him. Something that burnt fierce and hot, something that bloomed hope in his long-dead chest. Perhaps it was merely the quiet passion with which Dante spoke, perhaps it was something more… but he felt more strongly in that moment than he had managed to feel in decades.

Severus silently signaled the vampire to follow him into the Forbidden Forest so he could Apparate them to the meeting. Dante seemed to take the concession for what it was.

(1) I actually looked up the weather for December of 1996 in Whiltshire. Yes, I am uber lame. XD

Revised: 3/19/09