HEAVEN HELP US

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Kuroshitsuji - they both belong to their prospective authors. I own only plotdragons and this lil' story.

Summary: He was tortured by the Dark side. The Light side betrayed him. Now he's back, but not alone. Watch out, Wizarding World, because two butlers from Hell are pissed

Shout Out: Right, right. I couldn't help myself but write. It bit me when I was listening to the song Europe by Globus, and I just had to do it, never mind the editing the research work /sweatdrops/. So, with this chapter done, I will move onto finishing the next chapter for Crimson Sagittarius, but the update will be a little later, Real Life prerogative - have to get it done and prepare for defending it. Wish me luck /kitten eyes./ And many thanks to MHB with her blitzing fast work.

Warnings: Ouch, here we go. This chapter definitely deserves them - so here we go - mentions of rape and torture, so anyone with tender stomach or personal experience better overlook these parts. Seriously. Otherwise... our butlers are definitely of a jealous sort.

Heaven help in all our battles
Heaven see love, heaven help us
Avant hier, avons être
Déja demain, (nous) sommes éclairée

For glory, for honor
Victory is upon us
Our savior, fight evil
Send armies to defend us!

("Europe", by Globus)

"It was good to be a Death Eater these days. Our Lord was gaining strength by leaps and bounds - indeed, since the fools had incarcerated Potter, may Morgana curse his damned soul, they were as good as blind. It still amazes me how the brat had tried to warn them about our Lord's return, and yet the fools decided to be blind rather than take the heed of the warnings and do at least something to spare their pathetic lives. Just shows how the influx of Mudbloods has been degenerating our society. They should have remained in their own backwater world, or better, be drowned at birth, like the useless vermin they are. The lot of them, hiding under Dumbledore's skirts like some kind of crybabies - they come into our world and expect of us to accommodate them as if they were the next coming of Merlin – that we should have thrown all of our culture and tradition through the window in order to 'modernize' ourselves. Harrumph! What a joke They don't understand even the slightest of the mysteries - and they prattle about already knowing the Universe! Their 'technology' may as well be still in the stone ages, no matter how much they say they advanced. Lies, I say! If those 'satellytes' of theirs were real, the wizards would have made them a long ago! And their communications - so very primitive - talking into some boxes and not even using the fire! They think to fool us - well, we aren't fools! Dumbledore, the old fool is all for sowing their dirty seed among our pure blood - truly, he has gone mad from his lemon drops. He doesn't even celebrate Yule and Solstice properly - instead, he encourages something called 'Christmas' and don't get me started on that 'Halloween' of his! Why our Lord thought he is dangerous, I will never know, Dumbledore being defeater of Grindelwald notwithstanding….."

[Excerpt from the "Diary of an unknown Death Eater", page 194]

A darkly hooded person closed the yellowed pages of the old book carefully, before its white-glowed fingers carefully reached for a green and gold bound book and slowly, oh so slowly, opened it, as if the thin book - a notebook to be precise - held within the instructions for ritual with the potential to destroy the world.

The candle light shuddered, as if feeling an apprehension about the contexts of the innocent-looking notebook before the orange flame steadied and with the subvocal murmur of the person in deep scarlet hood, it grew a little. Unseen eyes narrowed a little at the faint lines of child's writing.

"Annie

It was a scary night! The men with silver faces and black cloaks came. Mummy and Daddy told us to hide - Janny an me had to hide, but Janny wanted her stuffed rabbit and she ran to the kitchen for it. The rabbit is ugly and I would leave it alone, but Janny said she would scream if I don't let her go.

The scary man with silver face caught her - stupid Janny and when she screamed he hit her - I think it was slaped – mummy told me and then he grabbed her like a kitten - I don't think Janny is a kitten and mummy never carried us like mum cat does to kittens, but he did and Mummy and Daddy weren't happy to see her. Mummy cryed and she was really sad. I stayed safe but I prayed for angel to help Mummy and Daddy. Janny too, even if she is a dumb meanie.

Annie, guess what? I was really good girl and he sent us an angel!

He was all in black and had big black wings and the meanies with silver faces were taught a lesson about being mean - Mummy didn't want me to look so I didn't, but they were screaming a lot, and they said bad words. And then, they were quiet.

I asked the angel to stay with us, but he said he couldn't, 'cause God would be missing him. And I don't know why Mummy was so scared of him. He was angel, wasn't he? Does it mean that she had done something bad to be scared of him?

I won't forget him. Mummy asked me to, but I can't. I promised him I would - I know it's not nice to lie, but I will tell no one. Not even my bestest friend in the whole world. I want to see angel again someday, when he isn't so busy taking care of God. Annie, do you think I could?

See ya later,

Mari"

The person tilted its hooded head.

There was a picture, all black and white and yellow, scrawled clumsily over the expanse of the paper, of a brown-eyed man, clad in black and enormous feathery black wings with a big red smile hugging a girl in a pink dress with braided brown hair and blue eyes with a smaller pink smile.

The only known picture of Savior, the mysterious man who was defending the helpless Wizarding folk from the Death Eaters' raids. White-clad fingers gently slid over the paper and the person chuckled soundlessly.

Ah, fond memories….

Truthfully, it all began because of a coincidence. The Death Eaters just had the misfortune of being on the wrong place at the wrong time and contending the worst opponent imaginable.

One Sebastian Michaelis was on his way from Carruthers Manor back to Grimmauld Place - he refused to let his master to wear those ridiculous robes the wizards were forcing upon him, and besides, some more ammo was always helpful to have. He had left Antares in Faustus' capable hands - the kuroshitsuji still hesitated to admit that yes, Faustus was indeed capable, even if he already knew that from seeing the blue butler's interactions with that fake Trancy noble. However, that still didn't mean he actually liked to leave Antares, especially when the youth had to fend off the Order of idiots almost on an hourly basis. But needs must.

Humming a song under his breath, Sebastian inhaled the chilly evening air.

Ahh, it was a good night - no moon, some stars peeking here and there and virtually trouble-free..

Meaning, it was a perfect time for someone to stir the trouble.

Mocha colored eyes looked over the darkened landscape carelessly - for once, the butler chose to walk, just because.

And then, he heard it.

The screams and shouts and raucous laughter.

Sebastian would have ignored it, if not for one little phrase.

"Long Live Lord Voldemort!"

Dark head tilted slightly as mocha eyes narrowed.

"Lord Voldemort, huh? Seems I will be crashing the party…" Pale lips curled into a cruel smirk as the body shifted.

"Let's greet the guests, ne?"

The Peytons were an ordinary wizarding family - they couldn't boast with the prestige or pedigree like the Malfoys or Parkinsons or Dumbledores - they were a small family of second-generation wizards – so relatively new in the terms of blood, as both of the parents came together after the Dark Lord was defeated for the first time - Charles Peyton had lost his parents to the Macnairs and Kathryn Cains was a Muggleborn witch who had been the single child of a single mother - her father died in a mining accident before she was ten, and her mother had died after she had finished Hogwarts. The pair had met at Hogwarts, but romance bloomed way later, what with her working as a seamstress and him needing a new cloak. Everything else, as they say, was history.

The pair was living peacefully with their two daughters, Marianne and Jannelise, the latter shortly nicknamed Janny. However, their idyll was shattered by a very unwelcome visit via the Dark Lord's goons.

Kathryn was a mild-mannered woman - dark brown eyes and hair, who had a strong love of her little family and her work. She didn't buy into the hullaballoo of the Light and Dark side, but she didn't toot her opinions aloud - it would be almost total suicide if she would have done so and she tried to keep as much of a low profile as she could.

"Evening, Mudblood." The masked man sneered at her as she opened the door. She only managed to scream for her daughters to flee before she was backhanded and crashed on the floor with the force of punch.

"Nice, Mudblood. But not enough." A rough hand grabbed her for her hair harshly as other people walked into the small anteroom as if they owned the quaint house she called home.

"Mari! Janny! Hide!" She hollered before she was hit again.

"You Mudbloods, thinking you are all high and mighty with your inventions and your world of electry-kitty. You come in our society and dirty the pristine ground Merlin had walked upon with your dirty feet. Squealing how we need to change, modernize, blah de dah." The man grunted, blank eyeholes of the mask staring at her terrified face.

"You should be grateful you were even allowed into our society, to serve the pure ones. You are good for two things - grunt work and being a fuck toy. " A harsh hand grabbed her right breast, making her squeal with pain as the fingers pinched the nipple brutally.

"Tonight, little Mudblood, you will have the honor of entertaining us. Care to guess how?" The dark voice purred into her ear, making her body involuntarily recoil at the knowledge.

"No! Please! " Kathryn begged, flinching as her dress was ripped in half via charm.

"Hmmm… you have a nice body for a filthy blood. " The Death Eater hummed, eliciting a raoucous laughter from his companion.

"KATHRYN!" Charles' pained bellow made her cringe.

"Oh, lookie, Edmund, an audience. Let's teach the blood traitor his place, which is…"

"… under our heels!" Edmund sniggered back as he pawed at the woman's posterior greedily.

"Shall we?"

The man nodded sharply. "Of course."

Kathryn was dragged into the living room, kicking and screaming, her body shaking under the low-level pain curses Edmund was plying her with.

The torture was… thorough. They had roughed Charles up good, before they began to cut his limbs - beginning with the toes and then continuing, even going so far as to use a lust curse while the man was being raped via a baseball bat he once acquired. A beautiful irony, to be defiled by a Muggle object, the leader said.

Kathryn was forced to watch it, forced to spread her legs, and let the man rape her in front of her husband while she was sucking off the other man. Her stomach roiled from the pungent scent, taste and the disgust –

And then, the child screamed.

Both of the parent's eyes widened with horror.

"G-Ganny." Kathryn managed to gurgle out before she was forced back to her job.

"Another little Mudblood. Aren't you two generous hosts…" One of the men sniggered. "Going so far as to prepare dessert for us."

"No - Not this. Anything but her." Charles choked out, his blue eyes wide with terror.

"No can do, dog. Learn your place."

The man returned, carrying a crying five year old like she was an unruly cat, choking the girl slightly. She was crying and on her right cheek, there was a big bruise.

"Lookie what I fo-ound!" he sing-songed as he dangled the choking girl as if she were some kind of a weird ornament. "A little bitch in training."

A slow clapping was heard, freezing the men in their places.

"What an interesting game. Mind if I join you?"

A rough voice purred from the window, prompting the Death Eaters to jerk around.

And there he was - a slender stranger, clad all in black with cattish smile and hellish red eyes.

"Who the fuck are you!" One of the dumber men called out roughly, making the silhouette tilt it's head. "Oh, just a passerby. Don't mind me, gentlemen. I am sure we could all have a good time. So… shall we?"

And then, he vanished.

The little girl was ripped from the idiot's grip faster than they could comprehend, and a scant few moments later, both Kathryn and Charles were free of their tormentors.

It was like magic.

One minute they were under the mercy of those - despicable excuses for human beings, and the next, they were on the other side of the room, with Kathryn desperately clutching their precious bundle of joy to her naked body.

The pair looked at the slender man's back - it was almost unbelievable that such a ordinary person could have done that.

"Wha –! " The Death Eater who tortured Charles bleated dumbly.

"Crucio!" The ringleader was faster, but the stranger already moved.

"Oh? The game is not fun anymore, is that it?" The stranger asked, his voice raspy, somehow making Kathryn shudder with unease, her skin prickling uncomfortably.

"Stand still, damn you!" Another barked as he tried to follow the man's movements fast enough to hit him.

"But where would be fun in that?" The stranger countered idly, and suddenly, the man howled as his legs were cut from under him, making him topple on the floor in agony.

"D – Doug!" The Death Eater hurried to his comrade who was wailing with agony as he rolled on the floor helplessly.

"You'll pay for that, Mudblood scum!" The leader screamed - or tried to, as his words were gurgled out in a bubbles of blood.

"You bastard!"

The man chuckled at the helpless expletive of predator turned prey.

"W – what the fuck are you?"

The man tilted his head, his eyes aglow with a sinister crimson light, making the Death Eaters involuntarily freeze.

The shadow on his back parted and suddenly, it was not one anymore, but two, growing and stretching and there was a faint breeze smelling of ashes and bitterness and night - if the night even had a smell, Kathryn mused dazedly and there he stood.

There was a shadow in her blue eyes… the shadow in the shape of an angel.

Sebastian Michaelis smirked at the idiots' gawping faces. He couldn't shift into his true form - that would be… inconvenient at best, because he was sure angels didn't wear high heels, but he still could use some of his talents to teach the rabble a lesson they would never, ever forget.

"I am but one hell of a savior." He murmured daintily as he looked at the masked men, the smile of his face angling just a little as his eyes slowly changed their color.

The Death Eaters recoiled at the hellish glow of the unnatural freak's eyes. Sure, their Lord had red eyes, but they were just that - red. But this - this creature - it's eyes were glowing, red and bordering on purple, the sinister glow prompting them to back away.

"I think we could liven up the party, and as the guests it's only fitting…." The freak muttered, his raspy voice echoing in their skulls like a death's toll.

"That you would be the main entertainment. You really don't want to be rude toward your hosts, don't you?"

"I - In the name of the Dark Lord – " the leader began, but a soft, sinister chuckle interrupted him.

"Don't bother. "

And then, the screams began.

Sebastian refrained from using cutlery – that would have revealed his identity and besides, it was much more fun to use some good old methods to punish the idiots.

Besides, he hadn't been pressed to be creative in a long, long time.

A wicked smile curling on his pale lips he enjoyed the screams of the ones who tortured his Little Master Ganny or something, while the man was trying to get in front of them to protect them.

It was a pathetic sigh. Sebastian sighed. No different from thousands and thousands ones he had already seen. Be it Victorian England, Babylonia or Ancient Rome, some things remained the same, no matter the time period or the advancement of the human race as a whole.

"Are you an angel, Mister?"

He blinked as he saw a small girl in the door - she couldn't be older than five, and her long brown hair was messy, and her blue eyes were watery from crying. She was clothed in a simple pajamas that were dirtied from all the hide and seek she was forced to do to avoid the Death Eaters.

"Hello, Little one." He replied as he stretched his wings - true, the room was cramping his style, but oh well. He would deal with it.

"Mari!" The woman gasped her voice choked out in relief.

Wide blue eyes, the color of a summer sky looked in mocha colored ones. "I asked for you and you came. "

Sebastian had to hold back a guffaw at the little girl's simplicity. Asking for him to come was asking for death and trouble, and this little child believed him to be an angel. Truly, Undertaker would have enjoyed this little joke.

"Indeed." He agreed, smiling a charming smile at the already dazzled girl.

"Will you stay with us?" The little girl asked cutely, tilting her head on the side like a curious little bird.

"He would miss me, little one." Sebastian smiled at the disappointed little girl gently, dark eyes closing into upside-down half crescents.

"Mari, come here!" The woman gasped.

"Mum?" The girl tilted her head. "But – "

"Mari, come. And look only at me. Only at me understand? Otherwise you won't get your chocolate chip cookies."

The little girl's eyes brightened at the woman's promise. "Really?"

"Really." The woman wheezed.

"Just close your eyes, Mari. I will carry you." Sebastian interjected, making the woman squeak with taken-aback terror.

The little girl watched with awe as the black-winged angel come to her and kneeled in front of her. He was so big and his wings looked so soft.

"Wow, so cool." Sebastian chuckled at her adoration-filled voice. "Thank you. Now, be a good little girl and close your eyes."

Nodding furiously, the little girl complied and a moment later, she was pressed to the warm, solid body and lifted. She inhaled the scent - something like cinnamon and apples reminding her of Christmas.

All too soon, she was released into her mummy's hands, and why was her mummy sad? And dirty?

"Here you go." The angel muttered, making her mummy thank him as she frantically embraced her.

And then, the scent of cinnamon and apples vanished, as if it wasn't there in the first place.

Kathryn Peyton and her family were spared from the Dark Lord's wrath by something they later deemed a miracle. Of course both she and her husband had to undergo counseling and therapy to deal with the traumatic memories - first from being tortured and then form witnessing the outright murder of their torturers in their living room. Luckily, the girls were spared, so that was a small ray of sunshine in otherwise dark misery that descended upon them just because they weren't of Pure blood.

This hailed the beginning of an one-man crusade against Death Eaters, much to the Lord Voldemort's ire and the Death Eaters' dread.

The public called the man... Savior.

The newspaper shuffled.

"Really, Michaelis?" Antares' raspy voice make the black butler wince. "I send you out to fetch the necessities and I get back a bloody hero."

Verdantly colored eye stared at the chagrined demon unflinchingly.

"Hero time, Michaelis?" Faustus asked dryly. "I am beginning to wonder whether or not you are a true demon."

Mocha colored eyes narrowed. " I am a demon of a butler, make no mistake of that. It could be your last." Sebastian muttered back to the fellow butler darkly.

"What mistake?" Claude asked back, the glasses glinting ominously. "Angel-chan."

CLANG!

Sebastian's four knives made improvised claws were expertly blocked by the golden set of knives held in the kumoshitsuji's fist. The sound of the cutlery crashing together created an elegant, if disorderly sound, making Antares' eyebrow twitch.

"Don't…." The black butler smiled sweetly, making Faustus edge away cautiously "Call me Angel-chan…. Ever. Again."

Mocha colored eyes brightened with a demonic glow as the two butlers glared at each other, their hands still struggling to overcome the opponent's hold.

"You two… Enough!" At their Master's rasp, the two butlers immediately stopped their struggle, hiding their claws – ahem, cutlery behind their backs like little schoolboys.

Dark eyebrow quirking at their actions, Antares tilted his head.

"It indeed complicated our plan, but…."

The two butlers' sole attention was now on the scheming smirk of their Master.

That mouth, which hadn't smiled for so long, was now curved in the faintest of expressions - the expression filled with darkness and malice that sent the involuntary, but pleasurable thrill up their spines.

"Let's make their lives a little harder."

Since that failed mission - really, it was not his fault, but Lord Voldemort still gifted him with a generous dose of Cruciatus - one Lucius Malfoy had a bad day. Scratch that, he had bad days as if they were going out of style, and that was saying something, because Malfoys didn't have bad days. Period. It was even written in the Malfoy Rules of Conduct.

Being a second In command was an ungrateful job - filled with perks but an ungrateful job all the same. Especially now since the appearance of that bloody Savior with his sidekick.

Savior… Lucius rubbed the bridge of his nose as to stave off the headache. For someone with such an innocently sounding nickname, the man was a bloody menace. Literally bloody, because he was one of the most brutal opponents they had encountered - and what was worse, they never knew where he would strike next.

And that was what differed him from the Order of Phoenix and Aurors… the man didn't have qualms of not getting after his opponents before they struck at him. And the worst of it was, nothing stopped him.

The Macnairs had one of the best warded Manors in Great Britain, and they were still slain like cattle and their Manor burning as if it were a dry wood, soaked in one of those Muggle flammable liquids. Macnair himself was left in front of his manor, gutted and quartered with his own scythe, missing his extremities and yet his wounds were cauterized via fire, leaving ugly stumps in their wake. He lived long enough to tell them who did it, but the question of why remained unanswered.

The Andersons were a minor family, but still important, as they had contacts in the underworld. Yet they were easy pickings – the head of the family went mad, blubbering something about demons, while his wife's body was found skinned and devoid of eyeballs and tongue. From the evidence, the work was done manually, meaning the person who had done it had to be a Muggle - an especially gifted one, because they didn't hurt the muscles - it was as if they simply undressed the female in question, using her skin instead of clothing.

The werewolf pack was significantly smaller, much to Greyback's fury – Greyback survived by pure dumb luck, i.e. having an audience with Voldemort at the time the attack had happened. When he returned to his den, Greyback was confronted by a mass of corpses, both human and animal ones, all of them with broken bones as if something monstrous had played with them, as if they were little bugs –crushed legs, bodies torn in half as if they were made from papier-mache , crushed jaws - and the scent of sulfur and ashes remaining in the damp evening air.

Whatever - whoever had done that - was a monster. Vampires were excluded, because the bloodsuckers just didn't do the grunt work like this - well, Vlad the Impaler was an odd duck in that regard, but that was England, so this possibility was excluded. Giants were out - too dumb by half, and stinking differently, and one of the survivors - blubbered something about demon eyes. Although Greyback was no superstitious sort himself, he had to believe Vasili - his pet - wouldn't have lied to him, not after knowing the consequences that came with that kind of act.

And to think that was only the beginning….

Lucius usually wasn't a fan of overindulging in alcohol, but right now, he needed something strong. All his 'feelers' in the Ministry had been put on the task of discovering the identity of the Savior… and nothing. Nobody knew anything useful - and honestly, Lucius was sick of listening to the reports of what the bastard had done - he knew it well enough, thank you very much, but to listen to it twice- first at Voldemort's feet and then in the Ministry was enough to drive him spare.

"Damn that Savior to the darkest pits of hell," he mumbled, as he reached for a glass of finest Firewhisky and gulped it down in one breath, wincing as the fiery heat rose from the pit of his stomach and into his head. The drink had a kick and a half, but he wasn't desperate enough to get into Goblin-brewed liquor yet.

"Trouble in the paradise?" The dark voice asked behind him sardonically, making Lucius flinch.

"Yes, damn it." Lucius ground out as he turned his head to glare at the darkly clothed form that lounged on the couch. "You know it very well, Severus. " He exhaled an irritated sigh as he poured himself another glass. "At the rate this is going, I will become a drunkard before the year will be over." He sniffled disdainfully.

"Ah, a fate worth lamenting." The dark-haired man sneered derisively. Dark eyes looked over him, before the man fished something out of his pocket. "Catch." Saying that, he threw the small thing, making Lucius clumsily snatch it from the air.

"Thank Merlin." Lucius' weary sigh was not faked as he placed the small vial on the desk, looking at the silvery black substance dully. "Any news from the other front?"

"No. The Order is in a tizzy as usual, squabbling like old hags. Dumbledore is of course miserable because 'Savior' apparently doesn't give second chances," Snape snarked back, making Lucius snort with irony.

"So the man isn't affiliated with him… yet." Lucius concluded as he eyed the full glass of the amber-colored liquid in his hand negligently. It was of a superb quality, but right now, to Lucius, it seemed just as worthless as water. Luxury was long enough a part of his life that he was taking it for granted - the white room with golden accents and dark burgundy couches and carpets made from the finest wool and overall elegance of the ensemble didn't take him more than a cursory glance. It was there and that was all he needed to know.

Gray eyes looked at the slouched form on the couch. "You think he could be persuaded to our side. Since Greyback's losses…" Both of the men grimaced. 'Losses' was too mild of a word to describe that… that… whatever it was. Massacre would have been a better word. But of course, both of them were too well-bred to use such an uncouth word as 'massacre'.

"Yes. No. Maybe." Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly. "If we could ever stop him long enough to talk with him."

Blonde eyebrow twitched with irritation. "Stop him? We couldn't even predict where he would hit next. It's highest members of echelon first, and the next raid may as well be some alley whores some of the grunts used to relieve themselves of the pressure." Lucius snapped back peevishly. "He is too fast and even my contacts in the underworld know nothing. It's as if he had appeared from nothing!"

"You think I don't know that?" Snape snarled back, his crooked teeth even yellower looking In the dim candlelight. "Fletcher is useless, I have to deal with the brats and dark Lord has me on brewing the Lupinsania potion - which , if I may remind you, takes precise handling and timing and to top of it all, I have to spy on that blasted Order like some old biddy!"

Lucius cringed. Looking at Snape, he saw the man was haggard looking - both the spying and additional duties were taking the toll on the man and really, with Snape being Voldemort's chief spy, the man had even more duties than Lucius and none the rest allotted from them.

"Forgive me." The words were heavy as if he was having a lead in his mouth. "I am… unwell."

"Aren't we all." A dry snort made the Malfoy head smile briefly. Even if Severus Snape couldn't brag about the pureblood lineage, Lucius came to appreciate the man's acerbic wit. It also helped that the man was a very gifted Potions Master, because with that mess, Lucius felt he would be in a sore need for pain relieving potions for a foreseeable future.

"Hm." Humming thoughtfully, Lucius turned the glass in his hands. "And that mess with the Carruthers heir…"

Dark eyes blinked. "What of it? Last I heard, the brat made a mess of the Diagon Alley. Our Lord was not amused."

Lucius cringed - the motion was quick, but dark eyes looking over the aristocrat knew enough of body language to discern the movement – before he returned to his refined persona. "Muggle. The brat is a Muggle. It shouldn't have been possible – "

"He is a Wizard - no Muggle can enter the Alley." Snape interrupted him, dark eyes pensive. "Though I do admit it was strange that he used a gun…"

"What an uncouth weapon." Lucius sneered disdainfully. "Loud, unrefined and smelly, just right for the bastard brat like him. Even if he is a Carruthers by blood he doesn't belong to the Council."

"You forgot something. He is also the mutt's heir."

Lucius blinked. "Mutt's heir?" he parroted, momentarily confused, before the gray eyes widened.

"You mean... He is the Heir of that Sirius Black?"

The greasy-haired man nodded, his face blank.

Lucius collapsed in the chair. It seemed that his day has become a whole lot worse.

"Tell me everything." He demanded and knocked back the glass of Firewhisky, disregarding the mild pain as his shocked brain tried to process the latest bout of news.

Malfoy Rules of Conduct be damned, he was getting sloshed tonight.

The Savior finished another one of the 'deeds', leaving behind the ashes and blood. Vampires may be faster and older, but against a demon like him, they were harmless little flies.

Besides, the 'business' was a wonderful way of de-stressing - he didn't know how his Master could cope with being locked in that nuthouse, but he swore he would make something extra delicious for him tonight.

Anything to get rid of his little red-haired stalker, after all. He scowled at the memory. He finally understood Sebastian's dread with the sharp-toothed Shinigami. Though, he had to wonder - was it only him, or were the redheads natural fangirls? He shuddered at the idea, resolving to bury it into the deepest recesses of his mind.

There was a hoot and red eyes slowly bled back into unnaturally gold ones, looking into the night.

A minute later, the dark shape changed into an owl - a little bit on a small side, with big yellow eyes and with a vermiculated gray –buff plumage darted forward and down, stretching it's claws as if trying to claw him and when he reflexively, he raised his arm, the small avian landed on it, hooting gently.

Golden eyes blinked as he saw the letter. "Letter for me, little one?"

The little owl hooted again, glaring at him, pecking him on the hand.

"Hm. Not for me, then?" The man murmured, his eyes narrowing, making the owl cringe, but still hold its ground.

Pale lips quirked. "All right, little one. Will you allow me to relieve you of it?"

Because demon or not, courtesy always paid... and he had a soft spot for the balls of feathers… as long as they were predators.

Golden eyes looked over him slowly, before the owl nodded, hooting imperiously as it offered him the leg with the letter tied on.

Black-gloved fingers quickly relieved the small owl of its burden, and as soon as the owl was free, it fluttered on the man's shoulder, prompting a quirk of an eyebrow before the man placed the letter into his jacket.

"Let's go, then."

The Savior and the small owl vanished into the night, leaving behind a handful of ashes and darkness.

Green eye stared at the small owl on the butler's shoulder.

The small owl tilted its head making him blink - and then he had a lapful of the fluff ball which hooted happily as it snuggled into the dark blue covers.

The mocha-eyed butler chuckled. "It seems you have another admirer, Master," he commented, his mouth covered with one of the white-gloved hands.

"Shut it," Antares snarled back crankily. "Faustus, what is the meaning of this?"

The bespectacled butler reached into his jacket, pulling out the envelope smoothly, causing Micahelis to get serious once more.

"A letter for you, Master."

Green eye narrowed. "This house is under Fidelius." He commented quietly, getting a nod of assent from the golden-eyed butler. "True, but this owl appears to be rather clever, as it followed me to deliver the letter."

"And that has nothing to do with you smuggling it in the house." Michaelis drawled, his catty smile sharp and dark eyes serious for once.

"You catering to Crookshanks has nothing to do with it, either." Faustus volleyed back, making the mocha-colored eyes widen with surprise. Faustus smirked at the flustered kuroshitsuji, but his smirk lasted only until Michaelis addressed him again.

"Owl-bitch." Michaelis smirked at Faustus' imperceptible twitch of eyebrow. Ahh, finally something to needle him with.

However, the golden-eyed butler glared back, snapping his retort quickly.

"Cat-whore." Michaelis jaw slackened for a second.

Oh, that was so not fair. Cats ruled over those feathery annoyances for predators any day! Why that little spider…

The butlers glared at each other, disregarding the rustling of the paper.

"Can it, both of you." Antares cut in. "And it seems we have another problem."

"What kind of problem, Master?" Michaelis asked, still glaring at the bespectacled butler.

"The engagement kind of one."

Both butlers' eyes widened imperceptibly at their Master's deadpan answer.

And their thoughts in that moment were mirroring each other.

'Oh. Hell. No.'

"I wasn't aware you were engaged, Master."

Ah, Michaelis. Ever the master of wiggling out the answers. Faustus wasn't sure whether he wanted to thank the irritating black butler or simply whack him one. Personally, he leaned towards the latter one, but then Antares would lock him out and that was the fate he avoided with a fervor.

Antares looked at them briefly. "I wasn't. However, this person wants to use me as a fiancé to get out of the Death Eater service. "

"Ah, of course. " Sebastian's voice sounded as if he just ate a lemon.

Slender eyebrow lifted. "Michaelis, are you coming down with a cold?" Antares looked at the butler who smiled uncomfortably. "No, Master. However, I have a bad feeling about this… suitor, if you will."

The white-haired youth sighed. "I admit this is a little… unexpected, but it could be a good foothold into the Council. "

"Or a good trap." Faustus countered, dark eyebrows minutely furrowed as he looked at the Master disapprovingly.

"That too." Antares agreed mildly. "However, the gains in this case outweigh the losses and besides, she wasn't one of those fools that spouted the pureblooded propaganda.

"How would you know that?" Michaelis purred out dangerously. "The shyest flowers can be the most poisonous ones, Master. You did admit that you had insufficient knowledge of this world, and now you would trust this…. girl – 'bint'- he added in his mind - "to be straight as a ruler in her dealings with you?"

"I don't." Antares' answer snapped Michaelis' mouth shut. "Truthfully, I trust her as much as the sun is cold, but the game has to go on, and it seems it's my turn to draw the next card."

The small owl hooted approvingly, making Antares gently scratch the top of its head, making the small bird push into the gentle fingers, demanding form more petting, making Antares chuckle with amusement as he fulfilled the owl's command.

In that singular moment, the two butlers felt inexplicably jealous of the flying carnivorous chicken something terrible, even going so far as to glare at the cozied-up owl who fluffed out its feathers smugly as it winked at the demon duo challengingly.

That owl…Had to go.

"Michaelis, you will research her. I want everything - names, grades, favorites, pets, the works. Faustus, find out everything about the Gray Alliance." The verdantly-colored eye darkened as Antares pondered the new pieces of puzzle he was given.

"What about you, Master?" Faustus dared to ask, making his Master's attention switch to him.

"Me?" Antares hummed a small tune under his breath. "I believe I have a letter to write to my supposed fiancé."

"Not until we have all the information, Master." Sebastian growled out, mocha-colored eyes flashing demonic red for a moment. "I believe it's your bathing time and then in bed with you."

Antares sent him a long-suffering glare. "I took one before." He complained, but his complaint was muffled as Faustus scooped him, making the owl squawk with indignation as it had to furiously flutter its wings as not to fall on the floor.

"Ah, but Master, cleanliness is godliness." Michaelis smiled a catty smile at him, making Antares groan with exasperation.

"There is cleanliness and there is clean-freakishness, Michaelis. " Antares pointed out dryly. "And I believe you are dangerously near the latter one."

"All the better to faster heal you with." Michaelis responded mildly. "So, shall we?"

"If what you said was true, then I would have to be the world's healthiest man." Antares snarked back. "Sadly, as you can see, this is not the case."

"Meaning, you need more baths still." Faustus interjected.

Antares shook his head dejectedly.

"Let's just get that over with, shall we?" He sighed despondently, resigning to his fate.

The letter fluttered on the floor, revealing an elegant script, finally revealing the sender.

... Zubeida Khan.

/To Be Continued/