I really, really, really shouldn't be writing thi, you know. But I was stuck on the other stories, and well... I just had to write at least the first chapter. I'll try to write regularly enough, but it's only my sixth on-going story. No pressure. Erm...
I'll try to make it one chapter every month, and I promise it won't be less than one every two months. Really.
Oh, and this is not a Harry-gets-new-friends-in-Gryffindor-right-away story. They won't completely ignore each other, but still. The first years will be particularly separated. I've warned you.
And as I don't think immortality works well with HP ( if it did, why the hell Voldepants had to try so hard to get immortal, uh? ), and as we don't really know much about vampires in HP, mine are not immortals. They are extremely difficult to kill though, and usually die of old age. They are a species, and not created by infection. Got it? I don't want someone to rant about it for some reason or another.
And why I messed with Damon's gender and Alaric's species? Because I like to and for once I didn't want to write a slash story between them. That's all.
I: From another life
There was death awaiting them, he was sure of it. He could see it, he could hear it, he could sense it. Death was just there, waiting for them to be taken into the Void.
Well. Not death, really. He was, they were already dead. So obviously, it wasn't death waiting for them. Death could not claim the dead. It had already claimed them. And they were dead. There was no asking it.
The truth was, they had asked for it.
To be dead, that is. Not to be there, right now, in this situation. If someone had asked Damon his authorization before putting him in this freaking situation, he'd have declined. Truly.
But he had willingly used his camaro to crash into a building, in order to murder a few Travelers, in a zone where he would have died anyway, because no magic and vampires and all that, even if he hadn't been in said camaro when the thing went boom! So he had totally asked for it.
On the other hand, maybe saying that Alaric had asked for it wasn't really accurate. His best friend hadn't even been himself when he had died, one year ago, so he could hardly have asked for it.
Alright, Damon had asked for it, but Alaric hadn't.
What was a problem wasn't that they were both dead, in other words, ghosts. They had a witch waiting for them to get back to life not far away. Erm, life wasn't quite... unlife would have to do. Being dead wasn't a problem. Or, more accurately, even if it could somehow be seen as a problem, it wasn't their biggest problem.
Their biggest problem was that the Other Side was falling into pieces.
Or being swept up into some sort of black hole. Your choice. The second figure was more of a description, actually. There was really a black hole in the Other Side, and ghosts were currently being taken by it, into the Void. And of course, Damon, same as Alaric, was about to get taken too.
The Void. Not reassuring at all.
The dead vampire... dead-dead vampire-ghost... shuddered as he stared with some kind of terrified fascination at the black hole that he could feel getting a grip on him. Yeah, awe, that was it. Damon stared with awe at the black hole.
He had sent Elena ahead, and he was quite sure she'd manage to get back to life... unlife... before it was too late, but this time Damon could just tell he wouldn't have that chance.
He shared a grim look with Alaric, just as he felt the grip get stronger. There was no escaping it, now.
Ric smiled a sinister grin, and looked ahead, into the black hole.
"I'm not your brother, Damon, but I couldn't care less right now."
They both knew it, somehow. It was too late.
It wasn't death that awaited them, on the other side of that black hole.
They were already dead. Hell, they were even accustomed to death. Ric more so than Damon, and that was already something, considering Damon was currently the ghost of a vampire, meaning he had died once when he had been turned, and a second time when he had become a ghost. Alaric was way farther up on that scale, though. The guy was simply dead no less than eight times. Eight freaking times. He had come back thanks to a magical ring, most of the times, and after that he had been turned into a vampire, and after that he had finally been properly dead.
The point was, they knew death.
But there, they had absolutely no idea what awaited them, on the other side of that black hole.
Before Damon could say another word, the Void was taking him. His eyes fell onto his best friend, whom he saw relent one moment only after him. The two shared one last glance.
Just before he got completely swallowed by the Void, though, Damon bet that it was only utter destruction of his soul and mind that awaited him, on the other side of that black hole.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
"Hush, lovely... There, there. Meet your father, won't you?"
Alba Salvatore held her newborn daughter in her arms with care. The labor hadn't been easy, but it hadn't lasted long either; the witch surely was tired, but not so much that she wouldn't take her beautiful daughter, her little Dana, in her arms. Alba was fine enough for that.
The new mother looked up from the baby and to the father, who was standing just near her, obviously nervous, and definitely wondering if there wasn't a risk of him dropping the child and breaking her somehow. Alba almost laughed; she had never seen her husband truly terrified. In fact, she had always believed he didn't know the real meaning of the word "fear". Apparently she had been wrong.
Dana's father smiled almost shyly, as his wife turned the baby for her to look at him.
"She got your eyes, Alba."
The witch snorted; she knew very well what he was trying to do.
"Take her, you oaf. You won't fool me into forgetting about that."
And seeing the face he pulled, Alba rolled her eyes.
"No, you won't break her. Now take her or I won't acknowledge our wedding even once this war is finished."
Her husband stared at her for a moment, disbelieving, but eventually reached for his daughter... who had been staring at him with clear blue eyes for a good minute.
"I hope she doesn't end up with your temper too."
"Yours is worse than mine."
"Rectification: I hope she doesn't have both our tempers."
"Being raised by the two of us? Fat chance of that, truly."
The two parents grinned at each other, but soon enough their attention was back on the little human being that the father was currently holding, and who was staring at him as if he had done something wrong. Which was surely the case, Alba mused. The point was, how would Dana know about it?
"She's staring into my soul, Alba, I swear."
"Just like her mother, then."
The wizard winced: it was too true, that.
There was a time of silence, as a nurse came by and did various things. At some point, Dana was taken away, apparently to do some sorts of test. The mother watched anxiously as her daughter was carried away by a nurse, but her husband held her hand.
As soon as they were alone again, Alba spoke her fears. Even if most weren't really rational, she still was worried. She couldn't really trust muggles with her newborn daughter.
"Alba, we have already talked about that. We've kept our wedding a secret, even from our friends, because of the danger that would come upon you if it was known. The war is raging right now, and I am not... I am not safe. It's too dangerous for you to be known as my wife, and adding Dana into the mess doesn't make me feel any better. I am a prime target, don't forget that."
"I'd rather you weren't... We're both purebloods, after all. We shouldn't have to be worried."
Alba saw her husband's face harden.
"We've already talked about that too, Alba. I won't change my mind."
"I know, and I don't want you to. It's just that sometimes, I wish you hadn't had to make your mind."
They shared a weary smile. He had taken a side, and she agreed with him. They just couldn't stay neutral in that civil war that was tearing apart wizarding England. Even being neutral wasn't a guarantee, anyway.
Alba's husband went to sit on the nearby chair, and he sighed deeply.
The witch had always known there was something about him, something dark and terrible, something quite insane but terribly clever, absolutely able to hide from plain sight as long as it wished to remain unseen. She had always known, and the truth was, anyone with half a brain who knew her husband could just tell. It wasn't as if he was hiding it, after all. Most of the time he was even putting it on display for all to see, but just enough so that no one could prove anything.
His part in the war wasn't surprising. He had to fight for what he believed, but it wasn't the only reason. It was good for him, even if he hated himself for that, because he needed to vent that madness in him, one way or another. Alba knew he could have kept it inside without difficulty. But it would have been nothing but a weight on his mind.
The wizard turned his head, staring at the door where his daughter had just disappeared. He had a thoughtful look on his face.
"It's for the best, I suppose, that Dana have your eyes and not mine. Mine are far too rare for you to pretend she isn't my daughter if it comes to that."
She didn't answer. She knew he was right, and she knew it could come down to this. Depending on how the war would end, it might be better if no one knew whose daughter Dana was.
It didn't mean Alba was happy with it being so.
Sometimes it frightened her, how he was able to just ignore his own feelings. He was so much of a Slytherin, at times, that she wondered with some fear if he hadn't fooled her, too. She knew it wasn't true, of course. He wasn't only a Slytherin, and not all Slytherins were bad, after all. Even he said it.
Looking around and at the strange devices in the room to think about something else, Alba remembered her surprise when he had said they'd have to take her to a muggle maternity clinic, because he couldn't be seen with her at St. Mungo's, and he refused to miss the birth of his daughter for all that.
Her husband really was taking everything into account.
And she had no idea how he was doing that.
"I just hope this will end soon."
His incredible eyes turned back to look at her, and Alba had to stop herself from shivering.
"So do I, my love."
Dana was almost two years old, when the news came.
The little girl had been playing with her mother for the past hour, when an owl delivered the newspaper, and Alba saw the headline.
At first she couldn't believe it.
He was gone.
A great warmth invaded her heart, and she only stared at the newspaper.
No matter on what side her husband fought, it didn't matter. No one knew everything about him, anyway. He wasn't in danger anymore. The war had come to an end, and at least, the bloodbaths would soon end. He wasn't in any danger anymore. What was left was easy enough to deal with. He was an expert at the Dark Arts, after all, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.
Alba knew some people on both sides of the war, and if she didn't agree with some of them, she still was sure both sides were, for the most part, relieved that the war had ended. The blood purists surely would be bitter, but even them had started to grow weary with the state of things. People died on both sides, after all, and purebloods were waning as a consequence.
Her husband was safe, now, and she would be able to make their marriage official, and to give her daughter the name she should have had since the day she had been born. Alba would be able to meet her husband's friends, finally, and Dana would meet their children. There was no more hiding it, that Dana wasn't only her daughter, but his too.
For the past two years, they had pretended she had just moved from Italy after her pureblood husband had passed away, after only a few weeks of marriage. No one had questioned it. The war was raging in England, but it had reached Europe alright too. It wasn't as terrible, obviously, but there had been a few deaths, and the Salvatores were well-know in the wizarding world. No one would question her story... even if it was a bit strange for someone who had just lost her husband to come to the country where the causes of his death were the strongest.
Alba was startled out of her thoughts by her daughter's voice, who was looking at her with big, reproachful eyes. They had stopped playing as she had been paying the owl, and Dana was growing impatient.
Her mother smiled brightly. Her husband hadn't been wrong: Dana had gotten the worst of their two tempers. Alba was already dreading the letters from the teachers for misbehavior when the girl would get to Hogwarts.
"Wait a little more, love. Dad will come home with good news this afternoon, and I'm sure we will play a lot more then. But for now I need you to leave me the time to read, alright?"
Unsurprisingly, the little monster that was Alba's daughter squinted at her mother. She had a calculating look on her face, and Alba didn't doubt her husband had made the exact same face at the same age, when he hadn't yet been able to hide everything he felt if he wished to.
"Dad and Mama will play with me all evening?"
Alba froze at the thought, not sure about what exactly she was promising, but very certain that it would be exhausting. Her husband would surely be able to handle Dana, no matter the day he'd have spent before coming home, because the wizard was as much of a devil in disguise as his daughter, but Alba herself certainly wouldn't last long.
"Of course, sweetheart. Now, why don't you go and busy yourself with... that toy broom your father got you last year for your birthday?"
Alba cringed as Dana's eyes lit up with a frightening glint. It wasn't everyday that the witch allowed her daughter to play with that device from hell, and there was a reason for that. Alba still hadn't forgiven her husband for that gift of his.
Her smile came back, though, as the girl happily ran back to her room to get the toy broom, and surely break one vase or two with it. Alba could already imagine all the reparo she'd have to perform before the end of the day, but still, it was nice to see Dana so happy.
Then she turned back to the newspapers, and started to read the article that told of Lord Voldemort's fall.
Alba turned white as she read.
She knew these names. She didn't know the persons, but she knew the names. And she knew what they meant, together with the words that followed these names.
The Potters were dead. It was what had, somehow, killed Voldemort. Their deaths, and the fact that their boy had lived, no matter the killing curse directed at him.
The warmth that had taken to live in her as she had read the headline had disappeared.
The Potters were dead. And she could only know the consequences.
Or so she thought.
Her husband never came home, and Dana Salvatore remained a Salvatore, as did her mother.
Alba brought herself to finally go to Hogwarts in the beginning of november 1990. She knew she had to, and she hoped it wouldn't be for nothing. Dumbledore was a fair wizard, but with what her husband had done... No matter how she couldn't believe it, she couldn't either not believe it. He had always been so...
But still, no matter what her husband had done, Alba had to believe Albus Dumbledore would give a chance to her daughter, no matter what. The Headmaster of Hogwarts wasn't one to judge on family, she knew that.
But considering what had happened with the most famous person Dumbledore had chosen to give a chance to, in spite of their background...
Alba was turning paler as she thought back to the case of Sirius Orion Black, and she ought to stop that. She couldn't let someone see her fears, lest they might understand why she was here. It wasn't likely, but it could happen.
And she had come here only for this not to happen.
The gates of Hogwarts opened before her, and Alba saw a stern witch waiting for her on the other side. She shyly entered the grounds of the famous wizarding school. Herself, she had only gone to a small unregistered school in Italy, that had good teachers, but expensive fees. There hadn't really been something like a castle or anything. So it was the first time she walked on the grounds of a magical school, and while her husband had told her many things about it, she still couldn't really picture it.
"Mrs. Alba Salvatore, I suppose?"
Alba quietly acknowledged the assumption, even if she still ached to tell that no, it wasn't right! "Mrs. Salvatore" wasn't true, since Salvatore was her maiden name, and she was married, not to a Salvatore, but to another pureblood... But she had told everyone Salvatore was her husband's name, because she couldn't bear to imagine Dana being shunned as an illegitimate child, which she wasn't, or because of her true surname.
It was the reason Alba had decided to come to Hogwarts before the admission letter got written and sent.
"I am the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, and also the transfiguration professor of this school. The Headmaster is waiting for you in his office, as you requested for an interview. I will guide you there."
They walked through the castle, and Alba saw a few students look at her with curious eyes, but she ignored them. She was too taken with the castle itself. Her husband had said the truth, it truly was incredible...
Alba tore her thoughts away from the wizard who had broken her heart.
Minerva McGonagall was watching her, she noticed, but she couldn't tell why exactly.
"You weren't a student here, were you?"
The question startled her, but Alba eventually remembered what he had told her. McGonagall had already been his professor, back in the days. It wasn't surprising that the teacher would remember not having had the younger witch as a student. The stern witch didn't seem like someone who would forget her past students, even the less noticeable ones.
"No, I am Italian. But my daughter was born here, in England, a few months after I moved."
"Then I suppose you are here to discuss something about her admission? There is nothing to fear, she would have gotten a letter even if she hadn't been born in the country, Mrs. Salvatore. As long as the child lives in Hogwarts' juridiction, they are offered a place, if that is what worried you."
Alba smiled sadly, wishing it was so simple.
"There is more to it, Professor McGonagall. Much more, in truth, but I am afraid I can speak of that only to the Headmaster."
The stern witch didn't seem to be offended, or even particularly curious, and they finally arrived before a gargoyle. Alba eyed the thing doubtfully, ready to run away if it even moved an inch. Her memories about magical gargoyles were far from great, after an incident at a duomo when she had been fifteen.
Looking at the gargoyle with distaste too, but obviously not for the same reason, the transfiguration professor spoke up.
Alba started, and turned to look at the stern witch in surprise, but the gargoyle suddenly turned on itself, revealing a staircase, and making her start once again. Apparently it had been a password.
Soon enough, Alba found herself sitting before the aged and genial Albus Dumbledore, eating a lemon drop. She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, but it had happened, and she had just discovered she actually liked lemon drops.
Minerva McGonagall had left them almost immediately, and now, Alba was alone with a wizard to whom she had to say the truth about her daughter and her husband, not knowing what would come out of it. Of course, even if it went for the worst, she still had to try. Even if Albus Dumbledore refused to give Dana a chance, it would have happened whether or not she had come. But if it went for the best... It would remain a secret for a little more time.
The old wizard sitting behind a desk covered with strange silver devices looked at the thirty-two years old witch before him with curiosity. Albus had heard about Alba Salvatore, of course, but he had heard little. Little was said about her, besides the fact that her husband had died in Italy, during the war. No one even knew on which side the wizard had been... or if he had only been an unwanted victim.
"What brought you here, Mrs. Salvatore?"
The Headmaster saw the witch stiffen a bit at the mention of her name, and he thought it odd. Odd how, he didn't know, but odd nonetheless.
Alba took a deep breath, readying herself to admit a thing she had not told a soul in ten years. It was all for Dana's sake. Everything was for Dana.
"My daughter will be eleven the seventh of December, Headmaster Dumbledore, and I had to see you before her letter was written."
Surprising, that. Albus' eyes twinkled, as he tried to solve this riddle. For now, he was gathering hints.
"And why is that?"
The witch surely tensed at the question, and her answer was soft, almost quiet.
"I never told anyone, not even Dana, what her true surname is."
The twinkle in Albus' eyes almost died, but he kept it going, if only to reassure the mother who sat before him. He didn't like the way it was going. He could only see two reasons for Alba Salvatore to keep her husband's name a secret from even their daughter, and neither was good.
"I hoped you could manage to keep it a secret too. I have been told the names of the students were magically added from a book in the castle, but I can't have her, or anyone else than me and you for the matter, know her true name."
"The 'true name' you are speaking of, Mrs. Salvatore, is not a problem, I dare say. It is true that the book cannot be fooled, but it in fact shows the name that the future student thinks to be theirs. It wouldn't do if an orphan received their letter but thought it had been adressed to the wrong person."
The witch seemed way less distraught after the Headmaster told her that, but something told him she would speak nonetheless. She obviously needed to confide in someone, and she had already admitted to him that there was more than met the eye to the story of her husband...
If he even was her husband.
Still, Albus didn't want to force her.
"You don't have to tell me who is the father, you know that, don't you?"
Alba laughed a bit, but even to her, it sounded hollow and false.
"I don't, but I will. I don't know you enough, Headmaster Dumbledore, to trust you, but you are the one I can distrust the less. And I've already piqued your curiosity. Even if you don't search for the truth in acts, you will end up looking at Dana differently, now. Searching for clues, at least in her features and behavior. Dana... she's much like her father, and yet she's not. I fear, now that you know there is something, that you'll just find it over time."
Dumbledore stayed silent for a moment, accessing the young witch before him. She was smart, if bit shy, and apparently very caring. He didn't want her to suffer through her revelation, but apparently she was determined to say it.
"I'll listen, then."
Alba tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her lips twitched, and eventually she accepted defeat.
So she asked for a quill. She wouldn't let him absolutely defeat her.
The Headmaster gave it to her, more and more worried as to what would come out of this. For the witch not to be able to even say the name of her daughter's father...
Albus made a point not to look at her as she struggled to write the two words that would seal her decision. Even so, he couldn't miss how her hand was trembling, how a tear fell on the parchment.
Finally she handed him the paper.
He looked at it only once it was in his hand.
It almost fell out of his hand.
"Was it an... accident?"
The wizard hadn't been known to sleep around. Then again, apparently no one had really known him, so Albus could be wrong. And he hoped he was, because if he wasn't, there were still two explanations, and...
Alba smiled strangely, a smile full of pain.
"It happens that I wish it were. It happens that the mere idea revolts me. I still can't believe it, to be frank. But it wasn't an accident."
The Headmaster felt very cold, but let nothing to be seen of it. He understood why she didn't want it to be known. No one would want it to be known, if it had happened to them. Especially if it wasn't an accident.
"Was it... violent?"
Albus could never have thought that of the wizard, but he had been proven wrong so spectacularly before, that he couldn't push the idea aside.
Alba's smile turned into a wince.
"We were married, Headmaster. We never told anyone, supposedly for my... protection, but we got married in january 1979. And he was so perfect that I..."
She felt something cold and wet roll out of her eyes, and she cursed quietly. She had known it would happen, but she had hoped...
She missed the way Dumbledore's face twitched as well.
"Everybody thought him perfect too, Mrs. Salvatore. You can't be blamed for this. And be assured that I will keep this a secret."
No matter what.
On the first of september 1991, Alba and Dana Salvatore stood together on the platform nine and three-quarters. They were watching the red train, the Hogwarts Express, that the youngest of the two witches would take in less than half an hour.
Alba Salvatore was a slender woman, with an olive-colored skin and long black hair pulled into a ponytail. Her face was a bit round. Her eyes were a freezing blue, quite surprising with her skin color, but well... She always wore black robes or muggle clothes, but with accessories of pastel colors. She was truly beautiful, and many wondered why the pureblooded italian witch was still single. She'd smile, and wouldn't answer when someone asked her.
Dana Salvatore, on the other hand, didn't look very much like her mother, and yet one could see the family resemblance. Unlike her mother, her face was squared enough that it could be seen despite the chubbiness of her eleven years old. Her hair was even a bit darker than Alba's. Straight, still, just like her mother, and cut at elbow length. Her mother had tried to get them longer, but Dana would scowl and say she liked it better that way. Her skin was surprisingly light, and the girl supposed it came from her father, about whom her mother never spoke. But she had her mother's beautiful eyes.
It wasn't often that people saw Dana Salvatore in public, but there was no denying it was her.
"I'll miss you, little monster."
And the mother ruffled her daughter's black hair.
"Don't call me that! I haven't made anything explode in two weeks!"
And it was true. Since Dana had gotten her wand at Ollivanders', her magic had been kept in check way better than before.
It relieved Alba, who had no one to turn to, considering the... particular nature of her daughter's accidental magic, that was sometimes quite... dangerous. When Dana had been six, the witch had given up and gone to see the girl's great-grandfather, who was the only one, besides herself, and now, Albus Dumbledore, to know of the identity of Dana's father. She hadn't had a choice, and her husband had warned her that it might happen, at some point. But he had been supposed to be there, when it'd happen. He hadn't been there.
So she had gone to see his grand-father, who already knew of Dana's existence. After all, her husband had had to go and talk to him, to assure than he would keep it a secret, even before their daughter had been born. But now, Dana's great-grandfather was dead, and there was no one to turn to, when Dana lost control.
But now, Dana had a wand, and if Ollivander had stared at her daughter for longer than warranted, and if her wand had a thestral's hair in it, it didn't change the fact that Alba was relieved. Even if it was possible because Dana was going to Hogwarts this day, meaning mother and daughter wouldn't get to see each other much from now on.
Alba's heart clenched as she thought back on it. First her husband, and now her daughter...
But no, Dana wasn't gone for ever. She'd come back for Christmas, and she'd write. It wasn't like him.
They had arrived early, because no matter how much she wished to stay, Alba had to leave before the train would depart, because of her work at the Ministry. Yet another reason why she couldn't let anyone know about her husband.
Eventually Alba had to help her daughter to get her trunk in the train. She hugged Dana for a long time, and made her promise three times over that she would write at least once a week. And directly after the Sorting, too. And that she'd try not to antagonize someone on the first day. And that she'd be polite to the teachers. And...
Dana scoffed and sat on the seat nearest to her to escape from her mother, sulking a bit. Alba saw this, and made for the door. Before she could step out of the compartment, however, her daughter was up and grabbing her sleeve.
"Mum... you'll write back, won't you?"
Alba laughed, promised that yes, she'd write back, and kissed Dana's forehead. Then she left, hoping that her daughter wouldn't stay alone for too long. It was ten before eleven, so the students were already coming, and she wasn't too worried about that.
Merlin, it would be strange not to have Dana around.
The girl had sat back after a while, looking at the retreating figure of her mother. She was considering going back to sulking, when a blond boy entered her compartment.
Who was this boy who thought he could just...
Right, it wasn't her room. Still, she reserved herself the right to kick him out if he was intrusive, noisy, rude, or ugly. She had come in here first.
She kept silent as he did his best to get his trunk above the seats, watching him as a cat would look at a mouse. He was a bit taller than her, and his blond hair fell just at the base of his neck. For some odd reason, she felt his hair should have been just a tad darker, as sometimes she had the impression hers ought to be a bit lighter, and not ink black as it was.
Then the boy turned, about to say something, surely "nice to meet you" or "good morning".
But their eyes met, and no words came out.
Dana wasn't sure what shocked her most. His eyes, or the fact that she felt she knew him from long ago, from another world, from another time, from another life.
Of course, she only managed to say something stupid.
"Your eyes are supposed to be blue, Alaric."
How she knew his name, she didn't know, and why she thought he was supposed to have blue eyes, she wasn't sure, but something moved in the back of her mind, struggling to get free.
The boy was the same age as her, obviously a first year. His face wasn't as squarish as hers, and his nose was wonderfully straight, but what was mesmerizing was definitely the fact that his eyes were freakingly blood red.
The boy stared at her for a while, then something seemed to make sense to him, nevermind that it didn't to her, because he spoke, just like she had.
"And you're supposed to be a boy, Damon."
It had gone out without her approval, but Dana didn't care at all, at that moment. There were waves of memories coming onto her, and she really, really didn't know what to make of it. The fact that he had acknowledged he was in the same case as her wasn't helping, even if it told her she wasn't the only one to be crazy.
Because it had to be it, hadn't it?
There was no way these memories could be hers.
"Alright, Dana Salvatore. I'm Alaric Saltzman. Nice to meet you."
And she responded dumbly.
She was supposed to be a pureblooded witch of eleven years old who knew nothing about her father, not a one hundred and seventy-two years old vampire who was supposed to be dead in another world that worked with different rules, and, most of all, who was supposed to be a male.
Then again, Alaric Saltzman wasn't supposed to be an eleven years old wizard with red eyes.