4. September 1996

It was weird, the feeling one had when he knew that he was asleep and dreaming, but couldn't get himself to wake up completely. It was like limbo, floating between being awake and being asleep. The arms of the clock jumped around as they pleased, the light changed with every opening of his eyes. Whenever he woke up it was because of the stinging pain on his chest where... well, he couldn't quite remember before he fell asleep again.

Eventually, Harry opened his eyes once again and realized that the numb feeling of sleepiness was gone. He recognized his surroundings fully now and took in the magnificent and detailed carvings on the four poster bed he lay in. The blankets he was under and the pillows that hugged his head were black satin and probably the most comfortable thing he had ever lain in. The room had a large window with heavy curtains framing it on both sides. The walls were covered in fine, dark wood and the ceiling was painted in white. A few candles lit the room and their dancing lights gave the scene a funeral vibe.

Come to think of it, that wasn't so far from what could have happened, he thought. With utmost caution he felt his chest and traced the bandages with his fingers. They were white and clean, recently changed it seemed. He faintly remembered seeing faces in his delirium, but he couldn't place them. They were blurred in his memory.

Harry couldn't quite hold back the groan as he stood up from the bed. It was by pure force of will, really, that he managed to escape from the beckoning comfort of the sheets. But he felt hunger and he knew he needed to squelch that as soon as possible, lest he go on a murder spree.

Looking around, he found some clothes waiting for him on a dresser at the opposite end of the room. The all-black outfit fit as if it was tailored for him and the robes had the same, modern cut he had once heard Lavender fuzz about. He, however, refrained from wearing the fancy shirt and went with a T-shirt that hung a bit more loosely on his still sore chest.

"Bloody hell, Moody," he growled out as the fabric touched the bandages on his chest. It was enough to make a spike of pain go through his body. It was a harsh reminder of his flight from Hogwarts. Whatever spell Moody had hit him with, it had done some messed up things with him. Just the memory of his skin hanging loosely and burnt from his ribcage made him retch in disgust again. Seeing his bones was not something he wanted to experience again, he decided.

His mind turned as he tried to think through the hunger, but he failed miserably. He needed blood, now, and the only place to get it was somewhere behind the wooden door of this room. So he made his way out of the bedroom and entered a long corridor of equally black decoration. It reminded him a bit of Grimmauld Place as he walked past scowling portraits of proud looking men and women. The corridor took almost a minute to walk as he had been at the very head of it. He came to an impressive entrance hall with two set of stairs leading down onto the bottom floor. The hall was bustling with people who made their ways up the stairs, down into the lower floors, through the two big gates at the side of the hall and the one to the outside. It surprised him quite a bit that a good half of the people were alive, normal humans, if maybe a bit pale. Where exactly was he?

With a slow pace he made his way down to the hall, looking for someone who didn't look in a hurry to ask.

"Harry,"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Harry whirled around, just to see Isla Black snickering. She was as beautiful as he remembered, the more casual, cleavage showing dress she wore, doing nothing to soothe his more primal desires.

"My, thank you. I appreciate the compliment." she said and finished it up with that giggle of hers. "Although I would prefer to hear them, rather than read them from your mind."

That brought Harry back rather brutally. "You read my mind?" With not a little anger he thought back at the lessons with Snape.

"Oh, don't be so surprised. You carry your emotions on your face, and your thoughts on the surface of your mind. I don't even do it willingly and see what you're thinking." she giggled again. "Also, we're family... that would just be naughty."

Despite himself, Harry rolled his eyes at the Lady Black. He couldn't quite hold back the smile at the Lady's inappropriate humor. He would have probably blushed too, had he still been able to. But the subject brought more question to his mind, which made him quickly frown again. "Dumbledore read my mind too, then?"

"That would be a fair bet, I suppose. He certainly did so when I was visiting. As did I... you philanderer."

"Could you stop with that?"

"Oh, absolutely not. Not until you learned to close off your thoughts. It shall be the boon for your troubles. I stop teasing when you stop giving me material to do so." and again, this giggle that made his knee weak. "I presume you are hungry? You have been healing for over two days now. You must be famished."

Yes, he was, he remembered. It was interesting that her mere presence was enough to distract him from that fact, but he filed that away for later. Now that she had said it, the hunger came back with a vengeance. "I wouldn't mind a pint or..."

"A pint ?!"

"Well... yea, thats how I got my blood before. I don't... I mean, how else would I...?"

"Come along. Its high time you choose a girl." Lady Black commanded and pulled him along, down the stairs.

"Wait, hold up, I can't follow... girl?" Harry spluttered before he could form a coherent sentence.

"Of course," was all Isla answered as she pulled him through a wide corridor that lead deeper into the mansion, or castle, or palace or whatever it was. "Tell me, Harry. Have you noticed how a few of your female classmates reacted to your presence. Someone who was maybe a bit too excited that you're among them?"

He had already forgotten that, but of course, there were. "Romilda Vane, for one, seemed to have a thing for the undead. Susan Bones was another, some Slytherin girl and... uhm..."

"Yes, and?"

",and Professor... Professor Sinistra." he answered, looking everywhere but in her eyes. However, Isla Black didn't use the new material for another tease, quite the contrary. The beautiful vampire was all business.

"It is a reaction of a few, mostly very lonely women. It is the same with me and men. It is a dangerous thing, some might even call it fatalistic, to give oneself to a vampire. Nevertheless, some do it for it gives them some sort of peace of mind." Isla seemed to ponder her words before she continued. "We have many of those here, you might have noticed the humans walking in the hall, yes? We feed on them and in exchange, we fulfill their desires. It is a... symbiotic relationship, one could say."

"So, when you say I'm to choose a girl, you mean..."

"Choosing a donor, yes." she giggled. "What did you think, loverboy?"

Harry chose to ignore the tease and just stayed on track. He could definitely see her relation to Sirius, though. "So, how does this...choosing work, exactly?"

Isla thought about her answer for a bit, it seemed, as she walked further down corridors and galleries before she stopped at a golden gate. In the end, she chose to give him not an answer, but advice.

"Harry, before you enter, I want you to know something. Choosing a donor, claiming one, is an honor very few vampires have ever received in these halls and my Clan as a whole. Normally, we share. If you claim one donor, she will be yours, completely. She will..."

"... be my slave?" he interrupted with a deep frown on his face.

"No, silly." Isla laughed. "But she will be very... dedicated. Most claimed donors become adjutants and right hands. They are an important piece of vampire culture, remember that. You will see if a donor is marked by the mark on their cheek, most often a tattoo that identifies their... well, yes, here we go... that identifies their master."

"I really don't think I want that, at all."

However, that was the wrong answer, he found. In less than a second, the small smile on Islas face twisted into an angry scowl, a terrifying grimace, really. Her fangs were prominent in her open mouth and just like that, the giggling, teasing Isla became the scary and powerful Lady Black. There it was again, that feeling of danger the vampire radiated.

As fast as it came, it was gone again and the vampire Lady was left with a stern gaze, but otherwise neutral expression. She took a deep breath and then spoke in a clear and hard tone. "Harry! You are a vampire. I have brought you here in hopes that you will embrace this nature of yours. I will give you leeway, for now, but remember well that refusing such an honor is a grave insult. Vampire culture builds on gifts. Gifts of blood, gifts of protection, gifts of alliances. To refuse a gift is to refuse our culture and to say no to me, giving you the freedom to choose among dozens of donors, is equal to spitting me in the face."

Another deep breath followed, and to Harry's relief, a soft smile graced her face again. "Oh blimey, this is going to be quite a task. It was ages since I had the last initiate. I must apologize, but I forgot, for a second, that you can't know these things."

Harry swallowed the knot that blocked his throat and made a big, fat mental note of the lesson he just received. He could do without an angry Isla Black in his life. Instead he decided to just go with the flow, for now. "Alright then, how does it work... choosing, I mean,"

"Oh, thats easy." she laughed and opened the huge, golden gates. "Have fun and just follow your nose." He was then roughly pushed into a room in which something went on that Harry could only identify as a relaxed and dignified get-together. He felt quite out of place.

Vampires were laying on big, comfortable, oriental cushions, arranged over persian carpets in little alcoves in the floor. They were holding drinks, ate blood-red sweets and snacks and some hung on the necks of, what Harry guessed, were donors. Those humans had expressions of bliss, and those who looked on had unmasked longing on their faces.

It took him a while, but eventually he also saw the room for what it was. He had to correct himself, it wasn't just a room. Its walls were made of glass. Huge screens of meticulous glass, held together by fine lead seams, let the people inside look onto a magnificent park outside where small lights illuminated bushes, roses and a large pond. The pillars that held the glass in between them were covered in gold, and opulent in their decoration with motives of demons and ravens that all stretched towards the chandelier in the middle of the room. A chandelier that, as he looked closer at it, was a golden statue of a woman that hung upside down. One side of the woman was skeletal, with torn skin over her bones, while the other side was beautiful and healthy. It was surrounded by floating candles that gave the hall a dark, mysterious light. It was barely enough for humans to see in, although for Harry's eyes, it was just the perfect grade of light.

Harry took another look through the hall and decided that standing around like he didn't belong was surely not what Isla wanted from him. He made his way over the slightly elevated path between the alcoves and sat down at a bar at the very left end of the hall. He was nervous, he had to admit. All this was new for him and he had a thousand question he would have liked answers too before mingling with a culture he didn't know anything about. So he observed, for now. It wasn't too loud in the hall and he discovered that there was no echo of voice, even if the hall would have easily been big enough for that. He shrugged it off as just another bit of magic he knew nothing about and looked at the audience in the room.

Some of them glanced over to him, but didn't do so twice. They were caught up in their conversations or fed on donors. If Harry had to be honest, they had pretty arrogant looks on them. There were a dozen alcoves in the room, total. The first seven, closest to the door, were filled with vampires and donors. Another one had humans in them, chatting with each other or drinking cocktails. They, also, didn't look at him too much, even though he liked the expressions on their faces better. They seemed more welcoming than the vampires. The rest of the alcoves were empty, but ready for the eventual guest that would sit down there.

However, the blood flowing through their veins was eventually distracting him from his observations. He really was hungry and the blood smelled fantastic. But then again, he wanted to make sure not to make a scene, so he grabbed a few of the sweets he knew as blood-pops from the bar and began snacking on them to ease his hunger for a little longer. Eventually he'd have to go and, well, do whatever one did to politely ask someone if it wouldn't be too much trouble to puncture her neck.

Slow steps made him turn around, to see the barkeeper, a vampire, walk to him with a polite smile. He was waving his wand and made a few glasses clean themselves, then he got a bottle from a freezer, opened the cork with a 'pop' and poured some blood-red liquid into a large tumbler. He then placed the glass before Harry and nodded encouragingly.

Harry looked confused between the glass and the barkeeper until the man rolled his eyes and explained. "Its Vino Sangue. Bloodwine." At the still skeptical look from Harry, he elaborated further. "Its basically a Cuvee, made from Merlot and the blood of cows. Its good for the nerves," he said and winked at Harry.

Still not quite sure, but willing to try, Harry took the glass and sipped a bit on it. It tasted alcoholic first and foremost, but by far not as bad as the beer or liquor smelled that his Uncle Vernon sometimes drank. He could get used to it, he thought and took another, bigger sip.

"You're the new initiate, aren't you? The one Lady Black had the entire estate up in alarm about. You came alone to the hall?"

Harry nodded. "Yea, I'm new here and... well, I have no idea what to do, really." he then realized the last part of what the barkeeper had said. "And yea, I came alone. Why do you ask?"

The barkeeper just shrugged, "Ah, its just the older lady also came with you... whats 'er name... Mc something."

"McGonagall?" Harry blurted out.

"Yeah, thats it. Quite a beast, that one, I hear."

"Oh, bloody hell." he groaned out and hid his face in his hands. "I completely forgot about that."

"'Bout what?"

"About me biting her."

"Oh," came the awkward answer from the barkeeper, who averted his eyes for a second there. But the guy didn't take long until he shrugged again and waved his left hand in front of his face. "Doesn't matter. They all come around eventually. However, don't expect her to treat you nice for some time. The involuntary ones tend to hold grudges." he finished with a short, barked laugh and then poured himself a smaller glass of the same wine.

They both sat in silence while they drank some of the wine. Harry reigned in his guilt of biting his Professor, barely remembering why he had done it in the first place. It was all a blur, with only the horrifying display of power by Dumbledore clear in his head. He groaned when he thought about the inevitable confrontation he imagined would happen at a later date. His transformation had taken a while to complete. He reckoned that McGonagall would take an equally long time. But then, the legendary scottish temper would descent upon him with a vengeance, of that he was sure.

The barkeeper got him back into the present by refilling his glass that he had unconsciously emptied by now. Harry grew fonder of the stuff the more he drank of it, even though it did close to nothing to ease his hunger. A fact that seemed to not escape the barkeeper.

"There is nothing to it, you know. You just go to them and ask to sit with them. Its easy, really. You're a handsome bloke, after all." This time the wink of the barkeeper made him rather uncomfortable. But anyway, he was no one to judge.

"I'm really not... sure. I mean..."

"Ah, pish-posh. I'll help you if you're so shy." The barkeeper then snipped his finger a few times above his head until a few of the girls in the eighth alcove came towards the bar.

It was the first time Harry was glad that he was undead. His face would have been scarlett red at the sight of the three women that slowly made their approach. One of them was blonde, with pale, porcelain skin and full, rosy lips. She reminded Harry a bit of Luna with her big, blue eyes. The second one was easily as breathtaking, with brunette hair and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. The third one was a black girl with long, flowing hair and crystal blue eyes that captivated him. More than their looks, their scents fascinated him, enveloped him with its intoxicating range of aroma. Their smell just grew stronger as they moved to stand around him, all of them sultry looks on their faces.

Holy Merlin, keep it together! He chastized himself in his head. "Hi," was the meager greeting he got out.

"Oh, a shy one. Don't worry, luv, we don't bite." the blond said softly.

"Yeah, thats your job." the black girl joked.

They were about to drag him off when the barkeeper held a big, ice-bowl of wine and vino sangue to them and said in a hushed voice. "That young gentleman is Harry Potter of Black, ladies. Be nice, won't you."

That raised their eyebrows and suddenly, the girls walked a bit closer to him as he felt was comfortable. They moved him towards one of the alcoves and sat him down between them while the drinks and some snacks floated to the table in the middle.

Harry clinged to his glass like a lifeline. He felt like he would split inside as one part of him was even more uncomfortable then on the Yule Ball, while the other part couldn't be happier. He identified that part as the same that wanted to do certain things to Isla Black. He really had hoped to get that under control.

However, the way in which the girls got rid of their robes to reveal shirts with impossibly deep cleavage made all plans fly out of the window. But then it wasn't the cleavage that made his head spin, it was the now exposed necks of them and the bitter-sweet restraint to not bite into them immediately.

"Its okay, you know," the blonde said, again in that sultry tone. "We want you to do it."

"But what if I... what if I get carried away? I really don't want to hurt you."

By magic itself, this is torture! He thought as she caressed his cheeks while the other two sighed as if he had just said the sweetest thing.

"Don't worry. We know how to handle that. Just follow your instincts." the black skinned girl said. She moved from her pillow on the left of the blonde girl and basically crawled over in front of him. There she moved closer, between his legs and then full on laid herself over him. She moved her neck into a perfect position next to his mouth and whispered in his ear. "Just let go, luv."

Every bit of restraint went away then as his fangs penetrated the black skin of the woman. He had assumed that it would taste similar to the blood he had drunk from McGonagall, or the sensation he vaguely remembered from the department of mysteries. However, this was by far more. It was in the silent moan the woman breathed in his ear, the absolute perfection of her blood. The taste of hearty shepards pie, the scent of the breeze on a fresh summer day and the feeling of the pulse of her heart as it pumped more and more of the red liquid into his mouth. Far too soon for his taste, she pulled away. Her eyes were glaced over and her breath was deep as if she rung for air.

"You must kiss the wound." the blonde whispered and Harry did so without much thought. He kissed the punctured skin and felt it closing up under his lips. Any other situation, he would have asked what happened, but for now it was just a sidenote in this avalanche of sensations.

He couldn't even get a word out before another neck was before him. It was just as intoxicating. Yes, he could taste it out there, the soft, sweet poison, amortentia. Just like with the last girl, she pulled away much too soon. It was a bit disappointing to be denied so short before... well, before something. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but he always felt like he still had a way to go in his search for the last bit of wonder. Like he was climbing a mountain as just before the peak, he was urged to turn around and miss the view.

He wasn't the only one to recognize this. The girls looked guilty, if he interpreted their looks right. He, however didn't have enough time to dwell on those thought before he tried the third neck. Unfortunately, despite the amazing tastes and scent, he was still left disappointed.

"You're a demanding one," the black girl joked lamely, obviously put off by her... he wouldn't call it failure. Frankly, he didn't know anything about this, so he tried to smile and enjoy the feeling of his satisfied hunger. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be and the girls were put off by something else. He couldn't really know, now could he?

He took some of the blood-pops on the table and sank back into the persian cushion, basking in the feeling of a filled stomach. He dropped some of the blood-pops and tried to follow the girls' conversation, but couldn't quite process their words through the bliss. He, however, saw their sudden bustling and frantic movement and heard the gates shut close from afar.

"I think we might have something for you, after all." he heard the black girl say and noted that he should really ask for names. But not right now.

Two of them stood up and made their way through the room. They came with a fourth girl, a bit older than them. That one made him look up, his nose taking in something so intense, he wouldn't believe it, hadn't he experienced it himself. Her scent was perfectly imitating the scent of amortentia, but there was more to it. There were roses and the salty essence of the sea in there. There was, for a lack of a better word, magic in her veins that pulsed as he moved closer. He didn't see much, the wild mob of black hair covering most of the woman's features. But he saw her neck, the skinny form of it and the pale skin that covered this wonder he was about to discover.

His fangs punctured her skin and the shiver that went down her body was like a cherry on top. There still was his favorite taste predominant, but it soon made way for what he could only describe as a buffet of new, more interesting choices. The salty and at the same time, sweet blood of hers made his tongue move around the wound, massaged her neck just to make the blood come faster. To get more of this out of her before she would pull away. It reminded him of the small breakfast he had with Hagrid in the Leaky Cauldron, the first meal he had at Hogwarts, the hearty onion soup of Molly Weasley. Its scent was the cold breeze of the scottish winter. Its finer details the bitter and salty aroma of mandrake potion, freshly administered. The woman under him moaned with barely held back pleasure as her hands moved around his head, pressing it further into her. His fangs punctured even deeper, the blood ran faster and became thicker. He reacted in kind, slung his arms around her and pressed her back to his stomach. She mustsn't pull away, this one. She had to give him just that bit more. Another drop, another gulp, for he needed it to survive. This was not just hunger satisfied, this was the very truth of his desires, those he knew of and those he was just discovering. His sense clouded as with one last gulp, he felt as if he was floating on clouds. His mind slowed down and he tenderly kissed the wounds before he sunk back on the pillow.

That was it, he knew. That was the sensation the other three were not able to provide him with. He wanted to thank the black haired woman, but as he tried to make out her face, she started, a stiffled scream tried to escape her lips and she fled from the alcove and the hall altogether. Violet eyes were the only thing he could recognize and would be what he needed to remember, because he had made a choice. This woman was his donor, whoever she was. She had to agree, for otherwise, how could he even begin to live this new life of his, now that he knew of these heights?

One of the three girls handed him a glass and he drunk from it the delicious wine. It just added to the tastes in his mouth that kept him in a high he had never thought he would experience.

It took hours before he awoke from the bliss and could make out the conversation of the girls around him that were, by now, rather drunk.

As high as he had been, as low he felt when he didn't see violet eyes amongst them. He excused himself, not even trying to conceal his disappointment of not seeing her sitting there, drinking wine. It was a high cost for something so utterly fantastic. Yes, he felt a bit like the time when Cho had refused his invitation. It also came close to the spike of pain in his heart when he had been sure that Hermione was gone for good.

In the end, he came from the hall, more downtrodden then before. His hunger was satisfied, but instead he was aching for more of that blood. It was a horrible feeling.

He also was sure that whatever had the Lady Black so worried that she paced up and down the entrance hall could not be good for him either. When she spotted him, he had to hold back a whimper and keep himself from running away. What had he done now?

She rushed past him and just with a simple gesture of her hand gave him to understand that he was to follow. He didn't even dare to think about not to obey. She simply was the scariest person he knew when angry, safe for Dumbledore who radiated his own kind of terror when enraged.

They made their way through the corridor to his room. She nearly ripped the hinges out of the frame when she opened the door. She then grabbed him and flung him onto the bed with ease.

"Sit down and listen! Not a word from you!" She paced up and down, trying to calm down, but this time her feral grimace didn't go away. If anything it became more pronounced with every length of the room she finished.

Finally she turned to Harry, who barely kept sitting in place. All he wanted to do was to run as fast as he could, as far away from an angry Isla Black as he could.

"Are you too stupid to look at what you eat, Potter?" she roared through the room. "Or do you just not care?"

Another pace up and down the room which again did nothing to soothe her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then, without looking at him, continued. "First you bite that beast of a woman that makes tinder out of my furniture in the dungeons. Do you have any idea how complicated a task it is to force-feed a transforming vampire that does not want to be fed? No of course you don't you foolish boy! How could you?! No... Gaaaah!"

With the speed of a wild animal she whirled around and punched against the wall with enough force to make the house vibrate at impact. A hole the size of her fist was in the sturdy brick wall and around the crater, the whole wall had a dent. She took another deep breath, shook her head and let the air out slowly.

"Alright... alright, lets start with your experiences in the feasthall just now." she commanded in a much calmer voice.

"I... I..."

"Don't stutter! What happened with the girls?"

"They were nice enough, I suppose. It was amazing, to be honest. But..." Harry looked down in sorrow at his feet. "But the truly breathtaking one, the one I would have chosen ran away after I drank her blood. It was just the... Lady Black?"

Harry stopped babbling when he saw Isla Black squat down and groan in her hands with so much annoyance that Harry felt nearly insulted. It was an amazing thing, was it not, ti find a donor?

"Do you know who that was?"

"No, I... was kind of in a daze when I bit her. Why?"

The most exasperated sigh he had ever heard escaped the vampire before him. She stood up and sat next to him. Oddly enough she looked as beaten as he was by now and her gaze was also fixated on her feet.

"I can not guarantee you that she'll come back." she finally said after a minute pause.

It felt like a world broke apart for Harry. Those words hurt him like he hadn't believed possible. "What..." he whimpered, "Why? Did I do something wrong? I can... I don't know... apologize, I didn't know, I mean I'm just going with the flow here. I have..."

"Stop!" Isla commanded. Her eyes never left the tip of her feet when she spoke. "You didn't do something wrong per se. You just happened to get addicted to the blood of someone who isn't exactly a regular."

"So you know her? Who is she?" Harry blurted out.

"You really don't want to know, Harry."

But he would not be denied, not in this. He knelt down and barely held back tears. "Please, Lady Black. Isla... I need her. This.. I can't remember the last time when I was so... so... complete."

"By Dracula, you've got it bad." she tried to joke, but her voice made it sound profoundly sad. "Has it really been that good?"

"It was as if every good feeling I ever had was in her blood. It made my head fuzzy and... oh, it felt so... I can't even describe it." he paused and locked onto her eyes. "See for yourself if you don't believe me."

He didn't really think she would do it, but Isla Black dove into his thoughts after all. She only skimmed his most recent memory and Harry let her, freely. When she was done, she just looked at him with endlessly sad eyes before she pointedly looked away. She seemed to haggle with herself. Her lips moved without making a sound and the longer she did so, the sadder she became.

"Before we talk any further, I must let you know that I cannot promise anything. Understood?"

Harry nodded.

"I also want to warn you that you really – I mean really don't want to know who you're so addicted to."

To that Harry shook his head. He wanted to know, no matter the cost.

Isla snorted and a pained smile flashed over her face. "Then listen well and do know that I only tell you the truth. I won't have you calling me a liar or any such disrespect."

She didn't even wait for Harry's reaction, for she needed no approval.

"The woman you admire so much is my niece..."

"But thats great, isn't it. If shes your niece you can easily..." but then it clicked in his head. There weren't many women that qualified as Isla Blacks niece. The Lady Black watched as realization dawned upon her charge.

"Who? There are three women out there that fit that description. Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks and Bel... Bellatrix Lestrange." he said in a voice devoid of any emotion.

"Take a guess,"

"No," Harry groaned "No, no, no, no... merlin damnit, no."

"I think you guessed right."

"Why is she even here?" Harry demanded, heat slowly creeping into his voice. "Why is she even allowed to be here? She is Voldemort's lieutenant! How can you be so..."

"Stop right there." Harry immediately followed order. He didn't underestimate the warning he received by a pointed finger of Isla Black. "I will not have you question whom I let into my house and whom I deny. She is my niece and it was your friends fault that she was maimed beyond the capabilities of the human healers of St. Mungo."

Harry swallowed and sat back onto the bed. "So, Bellatrix Lestrange is the one I... chose." he shook his head wildly as if to deny himself to think those thoughts. "Damn," was all he got out in the end.

"Bellatrix Black, now, actually," Isla casually said into the room. "Didn't even take that bastard Lestrange a day to divorce his 'damaged' wife. Can't give him a son and now shes not even all that pleasant to look at, with all those scars. Not exactly pureblood wife material now, my niece. And yes,... damn, indeed."

"Is she going to tell him? Voldemort, I mean."

"If she respects me – and I'm sure she does – then she won't. Not with the way he's treating her."

That peaked his interest. He had always heard that Bellatrix Lestrange was the Dark Lords most loyal, most devoted follower. To hear that there was something she would keep secret from him, well, that certainly was something new.

Seeing the interest in Harry's eyes, Isla continued. "The Dark Lord, Harry, has one huge weakness. A weakness he had since the day he entered Hogwarts. The Dark Lord fears death, or more exactly, the concept of death. He fears the nothing afterwards. Hence, since the day he found out how close we vampires are to death, how we are dead in the most technical sense, he detested us. Sure we were good enough as cannonfodder, but he never issued a command himself. It had always been one of his Inner Circle that conversed with us and with the poor fools that went to battle for him in the end." She sighed deeply. "Bellatrix had fallen victim to your friend, Granger if I remember correctly. She hadn't been bitten, you prevented that, but she had gotten plenty of vampirism infested blood into her system. Enough, at least, to make Voldemort keep her far away. Imagine that, Harry. He gives up his most loyal because she gets easily sunburnt now."

Harry snorted at the joke, but grew serious again fast. "So, whats the deal now. Why is she here?"

"Do you remember what I told you before you entered the feasthall? About who awaits there?"

Harry thought for a short time and then, when he realized, his expression grew sad and he caught himself feeling bad for Bellatrix Lestrange. Isla read his expression as the answer she expected.

"Thats right, very lonely women come here to find company, pleasure and and escape from their sorrows. And if I ever saw someone lonely then it is my niece. With just one stroke, quite literally, she lost everything. Right now, I'm the only one who would even listen now, so she came once to talk and then again and again to find some relief in the poison of vampires."

"Not that she doesn't deserve that." Harry mumbled. Of course, Islas ears were those of vampires and she heard loud an clear.

"True," she said with force. "But you may find that I care little about those I do not deem family. Bellatrix is family, and therefore I forgive her by default. She will always be welcome in my halls, even if I do not fully trust her." Isla sighed another time, her eyes searching the room for nothing, or maybe for answers, before they stopped at Harry. She fixated his black and green eyes and with a forced neutral voice she asked. "What will you do now, Harry? I have seen her and I can guarantee you that she had a similar experience tonight. I have seen these faces for all my life now and I felt her confusion as she ran by me. So tell me, what will you do?"

Harry wanted to say that Bellatrix could go to hell. That this Death Eater scum should burn in hell for all the pain she had caused. For the way she had brought misery upon Neville's life and those of countless others. She was callous, brutal and ruthless, why should her fate be plastered with forgiveness?

But then he also remembered that feeling when he drank her blood. He had felt so incredibly good, so detached from his problems and sorrow. He also had felt in control over her as he had pressed her body against his own. The way she had held his head to puncture deeper, draw more of her blood. It had felt so right.

As much as it felt like that final betrayal, that final and irrevocable deed that would cut even the last of his ties, he had decided. He wasn't sure if maybe it was just the animal in him speaking. The sense of hunger that was always there in the back. However, he had made a choice earlier and there had been reason for it. Enough reason, at least, to make his decision now. "I want to speak with her. Here. I want to talk to her about what happened and... I don't know. We shall see."

"A good choice."

"We shall see," he repeated silently.

Truth be told, dear readers, this chapter exists for longer than the previous one. I was unsure about it, but in the end, I wrote enough draft dialogue with the King and Queen of snark, wit and sarcasm (read Harry and Bella) that I deem this path to be the best one to walk upon. For the ones hopping for some Hermione - Harry interaction, I'm sorrythat you had to exercise patience for another chapter.

Anyway, Ad victoriam, civilians!