Disclaimer: All of the characters are property of their creator and owner. I make no monetary gains by writing this story.

Warnings: This story is Slash. That means guy on guy if you didn't know. There will be Slash within this chapter. Any scene will be isolated by a series of ' * ' . Also worth mentioning is that this will be a time-travel story, a creature fic, and a dark/evil Harry Potter.










There is hardly a man clever enough to recognize the full extent of the evil he does.

François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld





October 20, 1995, 11:00pm

One Mile off the coast of Azkaban

It was easy to spot the island from his position at the bow of the boat, though the dips the vessel took when coming down from the crest of a wave made him lose sight of the massive prison. A slim crescent of moon hung in the sky, just barely enough to give them to go by. His crew, though family would be more accurate, waited quietly behind him in intense anticipation. Tonight was what they'd been planning for the last year. All for this moment, and hopefully - victory. They would be taking Azkaban, liberating it from the hold of wizards who didn't -and never would- understand what they held in their possession. The leader turned to face them, luminous gold eyes glowing even from the shadows of the cowl he'd drawn over his face. His eyes alighted on each of them, pausing moments longer on those closest to him.

"Within the hour we shall arrive and seize the island. We shall take back what belongs to us and ours, and no wizard shall stand in our way. Hold to your squads and do not deviate from mission parameters. Containment squads, with the leaving of the dementors your being put on active prisoner security. Don't let any escape. You'll also be in charge of taking care of any Aurors we may take and putting them into cells separate from those of the actual criminals. Remember, as few deaths as possible."

The eyes of his audience grew bright, starting to light in various hues of crimson, amber, and blacks. He gave them a fanged smile. Yes, they would win. Azkaban... the city beneath Azkaban, would once more be held in the proper hands, the hands of his clan.

"My lord, the Sang clan has sent word. They shall join us in the taking of the island."

"Very well, let them know they shall have a place among us if they wish." The messenger nodded and was gone in an instant to send word to their, now, allies. His smile slipped down into a self-satisfied grin. The wizards were sure to be in a bit of a tiff when the news broke.





July 7, 1995, 3:46am

4 Privet Drive

Harry stared down at the letter he just received with a heavy amount of confusion. He rubbed his eyes and then squinted at the page again. Well, the words hadn't changed so he must be seeing what he was seeing. His looked back down to the signature. Definitely Sirius'. If this was a joke, he was going to send the fugitive back to Akaban himself because this sure as hell wasn't a bit humorous. When he'd first gotten the letter he had been just a bit confused. It was short and seemed to ramble on in no particular direction with a few words in places that one wouldn't usually use, so in light of that, it took a while to figure out its particular purpose. When he finally put all the clues together and spoke the Marauder's password, the letter changed entirely in content.

Listen pup, this will be hard for you to understand but you have to try. There isn't another choice for you. I should have told you sooner, but there just wasn't a good time or way to explain it and when we first met I wasn't in a good state in the first place. Lily, your mom, well... she wasn't really a muggle born like every one thought she was. She did have magic, but she was no witch. Only James and I knew she was a vampire, though I never found out how that came about or how she had you. At least, I thought we were the only ones. Some how Dumbledore found out, and he's starting to put... precautions into place in case you "lapse into your dark nature." From what I've found out about your previous years, everything seemed a bit to orchestrated in the first place. You don't need to believe me about that, but you do need to run. Run far and fast.

I won't be able to help much. The old man has been watching me closely and it will be pure luck if I get this letter out and to you with the device I sent you. Right now I'm locked up in the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters so don't come looking for me. In fact, I'll be obliviating the fact that I ever wrote this letter once I've sent it. I wish I could protect you, but I can't do any more than this. The ring that came folded up in the envelope is a disruptor. It will nullify any charms that have been placed on you and weaken any spells to a point that they should fracture and melt away on their own with time. The other is a port-key I managed to make with one of the wands that have been hidden in the house. You'll have to leave the wards around the house to use either. The port-key will drop you in my cottage in France. You'll be the only one able to enter so you can use it as long as you like. There will be some things there to help you get started.

I'm sorry to drop this on you like this, through a letter of all things, and I wish I could go with you now and watch over you like I promised I would. I won't tell you never to come back, Merlin knows that I'll always want to see you, but I wish you would stay away from this trouble and live your own life. Your still young, you shouldn't have to be swept up into this Dark Lord business any more than you are. If you do come back though, you need to be careful. Don't underestimate Dumbledore just because he looks like an old man, and don't... don't trust the people working for him easily.

~Love you kid,


The letter suddenly went up in flames that glowed a delicate blue color. The ashes dropped to the floor. He paid them no mind. It wasn't like the Dursleys ever came in here to clean, that was his job. He looked at the ring and the small metal plate that was acting as a port-key. It wasn't that he didn't believe Sirius. He did, but what did he mean when he said that Dumbledore was taking precautions? And how could his mother had been a vampire and no one else have known? Didn't they have an aversion to sunlight? It wasn't like Hogwarts offered many night classes. He sat on the bare bed, staring down at the items. With a swift motion they were in his hand. Those questions didn't matter right now. All that did matter was that even if they were partially true, then he was in some kind of danger, and he couldn't dodge blows from both sides of this conflict. He'd never survive it.

Slowly and with steady resolve he slipped off of his bed to kneel on the floor and pry up the loose board. His most valued possessions, the only ones he would be taking, were there. Wand, cloak, and album. When he had a firm grasp on all of them, with the cloak drawn over him and the ring and port-key securely in hand, he moved to the door. Harry placed his hand on the back of the door, just along the side where the series of locks were lined up. He'd only done this a handful of times before and only when he needed out, but he was confident that his magic would assist him now. He reached down into that swirling vortex of energy and thrust it forward. The incantation came to mind, the wand movement -though he held none, and the feeling when the spell was cast. Alohomora. The locks gave soft clicks as the opened themselves. He twisted the knob and stepped into the shadowed hall, making his way slowly down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door.

The night was dark, no moon to light the yard. The neighborhood was shrouded and the houses and objects that dotted the lawns just barely silhouettes against the night. He stepped carefully around them, twisting through the many back yards to feel his way beyond the various wards that surrounded the place. The blood wards were only around the house, but he had felt other just at the edge of his neighborhood. He wasn't going to take any chances. As soon as he passed through them, he would use the disruptor and the port-key. Then... well then he would pause and try to figure every thing out. The wards brushed over him, making his skin tingle and the hair on his arms raise a little. He slipped on the ring and felt it pulling at the spells and charms on him, ripping them away and tearing them to shreds. He waited just a moment until he was sure the object had finished his work before clutching the port-key and whispering the marauder's password once more. He was whisked away, leaving the grassy knoll he'd been standing on empty.





July 7, 1995, 4:56am

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Alarms shrieked, breaking the silence of the early morning. Shiny little baubles that twirled and moved that lined various shelves and even the desk suddenly sputtered and died. Then, everything fell abruptly quiet again, as if nothing had happened. The alarms task had been completed before their suddenly deaths, the Headmaster had been awakened and was hurrying down from his room to the office, a touch of panic in his chest. Those were the alarms for the end wards, the last wards that surrounded the area Harry was living at. If they went off, then that meant he had left them. When they suddenly stopped, his pace quickened. Harry's ties to the wards had been cut. He burst into his office, throwing the door open with little care and startling the sleeping phoenix. It didn't take long to notice that all of the objects he'd linked to Harry in some way were no longer functioning. Numbly, he sank down into his chair.

Any chance he had of finding Harry had just expired. Without the ties he had established, it would be next to impossible. They would have to go about their such just like muggles, but they didn't have all the options of the muggle technology available to them. Then again, the boy couldn't possibly have gone far. Surely it had to be a fluke, accidental magic, that allowed him to disable all of the little trinkets tied to him. Then again, the possibility that he'd had aid in the matter of his escape did not completely disappear. He knew exactly who to suspect in that regard. Only one person would consider defying him in this matter, and that was Sirius Black. He would be making time to visit the man today, assuredly. Perhaps Severus could relinquish a vial of veritaserum? He doubted the potions professor would protest all things considered.

He made his way down to the dungeons, unsurprised to find the man still up and hovering over two caldrons that simmered and hissed softly. Severus was always like this in the beginnings of summer. Tied down with students and his duties as a teacher for most of the year, he rarely had time to experiment, so he left most of it for the months when the castle would be mostly empty. Severus looks up at him as he enters, his eyes darker than normal from the lack of sleep he'd been getting the last two days.

"Something you need, Albus?"

"Yes, I think a bottle of your finest would do well." he said with that congenial old man smile of his. Severus paused in watching his cauldrons, straitening to his full height to peer at the man. He would have asked questions, if he'd been sure it would have gotten him a honest and straightforward answer, but he wasn't such a fool.

"A moment then." He turned away and was gone into his private stores, shuffling bottles and vials to find the one he'd kept furthest in the back and hidden behind a piece of wood that supported the shelf above. He hesitated just slightly as he palmed the vial of clear liquid. Just what was the Headmaster planning now? "Here." He passed it away casually as if he didn't have hundreds of questions.

Dumbledore gave him another of those smiles and twinkled brightly at him. He repressed a shiver. Who ever the veritaserum was for, there wasn't likely a positive outcome for them. He could almost bring himself to feel sorry for the victim. Almost, but not quite. He turned back to his potions as the Headmaster ambled away, playing his part at senile old fool. He knew better of course, at least now, when it was too late to matter. He really should have listened more in his younger years. Dark wizards had never been wrong when forming an opinion on the light side of the society. They couldn't afford to be because doing so would get them, and likely their family, killed.


It was late morning, almost noon before Sirius decided that it was time to rise for the day. It wasn't like he had anything to be up early for anyways. He was alone today, Lupin staying at his small cottage because of the fight that had ensued the evening before. Remus had whole heartedly agreed to Dumbledore's ideas of subduing the vampire within Harry. Sirius had a few choice words to the werewolf over the matter considering that the man was in fact a dark creature himself, and he had been given a choice in whether he wanted to take the potion Snape brewed. That he wanted to take such a choice away from Harry hurt Sirius more than he was willing to admit. He stepped into the kitchen with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back until a few satisfying pops sounded. He didn't even have time to comprehend the stunner that took him from behind.

Dumbledore stood over the unconscious form spread across the floor before him. Azkaban had indeed taken its toll on the man if he was able to sneak up on the other. Sirius, surprisingly enough, had been known for his talent of detection when he'd been an auror. Without hesitation he levitated Sirius into a chair and bound him tightly to it, and with a quick flick of his wrist, Sirius was once more awake if not a little dazed. He tipped the appropriate amount into Sirius' mouth before stepping back and waiting for the serum to take affect. Only when he was looking into glazed eyes did he being questioning.

"What is your name?"

"Sirius Orion Black."

"How long have you been aware of Harry Potter's vampiric condition."

"Since his birth."

"Did you ever discuss this with him?"


"Did you ever attempt to relay this information in any other way?"


"Were you, at any time, planning to tell Harry about it?"


"Did you have a hand in Harry Potter's disappearance?"


"Are you aware of anyone who did?"


The Headmaster pursed his lips and tilted his head back. Apparently Black hadn't known about Harry's vanishing act or knew any one that did. Surely the boy couldn't have pulled such a stunt on his own, and if the death eaters or Voldemort had had anything to do with it, they would have ripped through the wards. Oh, the questions. He certainly hadn't planned for this eventuality. The boy was never supposed to run away, or if he did, not do it so efficiently that they weren't able to track him with the many spells. Ah, perhaps the coven Lily was a childe of had taken him?

"Do you know which clan or coven Lily's vampire heritage came from?"


"Would the vampire's have taken Harry from his home?"


"Why not?"

"He has to prove himself in some way to them."

Dumbledore nodded and stepped up to give him a dose of the counter. Sirius' eyes cleared and he was looking up at the elderly man in confusion.

"Albus? What-"

"Sorry, my boy." He said grimly, casting an obliviate before finally releasing the man and heading back to his office. He stepped from the fireplace and into the quiet of his office. Fawkes was missing from his perch, no doubt doing whatever it was that phoenixes did in their spare time. He sat in his chair and folded his hands atop the desk. "How curious..."

July 7, 1995, 4:56am

Voldemort's Citadel

Crimson eyes snapped open, and Voldemort jolted into an upright position in his bed. The dark silken covers had been tossed half onto the floor and the other pillows that had been pushed against the headboard were now strewn across the mattress. Something had changed. He could taste it on the air, in the swirl of magic. Some thing crucial had just happened, some thing that could change the outcome of the war. He rose gracefully from between the sheets and took t his feet quietly. It was a little early to be up and moving around considering the time he finally went to bed, but without knowing exactly what had happened, he would be unable to fall back to sleep.

He slipped into his robes with a shrug of his shoulders and headed toward his study. This would need further study. Perhaps he would call a meeting tonight and gather the reports from his spies. He twirled his wand idly between his fingers as he walked down the hall. He wondered if the shifting in the magic would work in his favor. With the majority of the magical world denying his return he had time to gather his resources without any interference. The downside was that he had to continue to lie low until his forces were once more amassed. So thus far, things were working in the opposing side's favor.

Voldemort fell into the plush chair in his study, one leg swung up over the arm and proceeded to tap his yew wand against his lips. So many things to contemplate... Torchlight shined on the gleaming silver around his wrist and drew his eyes. The two rubies that were the serpent's eyes (because they match yours, Tom) stared back at him from a finely crafted face. He sneered at it. He would have thought that he had conquered such sentimentality, and yet here he sat, wearing something from the days of his youth. He sighed and pulled the sleeve of his robe down, hiding it from view once more. The one who had given it to him was long dead and gone, and all that was left were the bracelet and the memories attached to it.

"Foolish of me." He spoke softly into the empty room.





July 7, 1996, 4:56am

Padfoot's Cottage, France – Unplottable

Harry sprawled across the ground as he landed, face nearly buried in the dirt. He spat out a few blades of grass as he sat up. Yard tasted as bad in France as it did in Britain. He looked up to the house and blinked. Twice. Then rubbed his eyes. Apparently Sirius had a skewed sense of 'cottage' because this was far larger than what he pictured a cottage to be. Three floors were easily visible, large windows with drapes pulled decorated the face of the home, and there were three statues that the cobblestone path split and wrapped around that led to the front door. A stag, a wolf, and a grim all stood together on a raised stone platform. A faint smile touched his lips. He moved passed them and into the house. A small end table was waiting for him in the foyer, a note scrawled across bright white parchment with a book sitting underneath on top of the darkly polished surface.

Glad that you made it pup. Welcome to Padfoot's Cottage. The house is unplottable and no one but you and me know where it is. Not even Moony knows that I have this place. There aren't any house elves though, so you'll be on your own with cooking and cleaning. The nearest town is about a ten-minute walk, but there is a motorcycle in the shed that you can take, to go and get food or whatever. Now for the important things. The library is fully stocked and... I can't believe I'm writing this but you'll need all the help you cant get... don't be shy about the dark arts books. There should be quite a few about vampires as well. You can use magic as long as you're within the property. The forest out back can be dangerous, but mostly at night so be careful. There's a potion lab in the backroom on the second floor – try not to blow up the house. There are a couple of brooms in the shed with the motorcycle.

This place is floo accessible but only with the password "grim" and you have to let others through if they don't have the password. The age to get an apparition license in France is fifteen, so take that after your birthday. Heh, the bastards in the ministry have no choice but to honor it. Get another wand while your here. The floo address for the... er, I guess you would call it a village is Black Lotus Cafe. There are shops for pets, books, wands, a bank, clothes –magical and muggle, a tattoo parlor, magical items store, something akin to a pawnshop, and a jewelry shop that also sells magical trunks. Before you go out, make sure to hide your identity. I know that you don't have your key, so I opened a vault under the name Corvus Blackwood. The key is by the book. An allowance is transferred monthly. Try not to spend it all in once place.

~ Good luck


The house was fully stocked with all the supplied he would need, easily enough food for two weeks, perhaps longer depending on how hungry he was. He pulled the book, key, and note from the table as he walked past, intent on putting them into what ever room he decided to stay in for now. He noticed that the house didn't seem that lived in. All of the furniture looked new and clean, no pictures hung from the walls, and many of the rooms looked freshly painted. It was surprisingly bright, nothing at all like he would have pictured when looking at Sirius. The man may have fought on the light side of the war, but he looked like a dark wizard.

The first room he entered happened to be the library that Sirius had written about. Shelves lined three of the four walls with the last being spared in the case that a large bay window opened up the room. Sheer crimson curtains were pulled closed across a golden curtain rod, but he could make out the vague shapes beyond. The window looked out onto the forest that lay behind the home. The next room was a small bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet. It seemed cramped compared to the rest of the house. Many of the rooms were empty, just carpeting and four plain walls. In a way it was depressing, and at the same time, it gave him a sort of blank slate to work with. This was where he was going to be living for as long as he could, and he was going to make it into his home.

July, 21

He'd been here two weeks, and he couldn't yet say that he regretted leaving. The International Dragon had come out some time last week with news –front page of course- of his disappearance. Dumbledore and his friends had given short interviews, asking him to come back and let them know that he was okay. He, naturally, didn't respond. It no longer bothered him after the third paper came out with his smiling face on the cover. With so much time to himself, he'd come to the same conclusion that Sirius had pointed out to him. The events of his Hogwarts life seemed far to contrived to be coincidental, and with that in mind, it meant that there was no way his friends had become so by chance. That didn't mean that he thought that Dumbledore was an evil man. He could almost see where the Headmaster was coming from, what with everything involving Tom Riddle in his younger years, but that didn't mean he approved of it. In fact, he detested the interference. To be dark or light was his choice, and it shouldn't be taken away from him.

Dumbledore intended to do just that, partially with the planned occurrences and now with the scheme to deny him his vampiric heritage.

July 31

He'd gotten his license to apparate. Finally. Even with the appointment and the classes he'd signed up for it had taken a near total of four hours. The concept wasn't that difficult, envision where you want to go and bang your there. No, it was that his instructor just wouldn't stop talking about what one should not do when attempting to apparate. Most of which was common sense by the way. Avoid apparating while drunk or injured severely enough that shock was starting to set in. He'd been so lucky as to receive the instructor that went into the particulars of splinching oneself as well... and what a boring lecture that had been. But in the end he had gotten what he wanted and considered it worth the trouble.

Aug 4

Some one had been near his home, a place that was supposed to be unplottable. They didn't enter the wards though, instead following the border entirely around the property as if to map the location as thoroughly as possible while not being able to enter. He was far more careful now since the discovery of the trespasser, casting spells nearly every time he left the house to detect people. He was taking no chances that it could be a member of Voldemort's forces or one of Dumbledore's men. Harry didn't want to go back to that life. He was content here, learning from books and the people he met at the Black Lotus. This life was easy, and the part time job he'd taken at the book store was easily as well. No enemies.

Aug 17

His visitor had stopped by again and had left a sheet of parchment tacked to a tree. He'd narrowed down the time, between 10pm and 2am, for their arrival. The paper had thirteen symbols drawn on it. They were set into a circle all centered around an ankh. Lines hashed through six of the symbols, marring the vibrant colors with harsh black. Four had another signed behind them, as if the ink had faded away, but it was recognizable enough. Blood ties, Family ties. Who ever it was that still lived was the representative of those four symbols, but what were they? One could assume a family just from the impression behind the symbols, but for all he knew, it could mean the unification of four different species into a single body. There were far to many interpretations to it. Then again, the ankh had to have some significance in relation to the thirteen symbols. Now what species and cultures were closely tied to it.

Aug 21

Vampires. Those symbols were the crests of the thirteen covens, the royalty of the vampiric community. They were high bred, high class, or at least they were hundreds of years ago. Six of the clans had been completely wiped out, the only thing remaining to show that they even existed in the first place were the crests on the page he held. Their names and their line's powers were all lost to the decay that comes with time. The four connecting ones, Umbra (Shadow), Sol (Sun), Ignis (Fire), and Fuga (Flight) were the clans of the fallen, the lost. The powers those clans were known for: Umbra's shadow travel, Sol's ability to thrive in day, Ignis' resistance and control of fire, and Fuga's ability to fly, were the lost arts of vampire kind. Many tried to attain the powers, and only those with even a hint of that line's blood could.

With all the knowledge displayed on the paper, albeit in a round about way, there was only one possible option for his visitor. His interloper had to be a vampire. That set him ill at ease. Why would a vampire seek him out? After the fall of the thirteen clans, the ruling body, they'd scattered into smaller covens with their own particular hierarchy. There was no reason for them to look for him. He hadn't even come into his vampire abilities. Harry slid the tome he'd gotten his information out of away from him, near the other side of the table. He would need to meet his vampire stalker soon. He needed answers.

Aug 26

Harry's eyes flew open as he sense the barely there change in the wards. The vampire had touched them. Either it had wanted to test them, or it was looking to gain Harry's attention. He was up and out of bed as fast as he feet could carry him. Backyard. He made an abrupt turn, almost loosing his footing on a small rug, towards the back of the house. The wards bordered the tree line there. The vampire would have plenty of darkness to hide itself in. He knew that he shouldn't run outside all willy-nilly, especially as that voice in the back of his head was berating him with ever step he took, but he wanted to get to the vampire before it decided to disappear again. He lurched through the back door and knew as soon as an arm clamped around his throat, another holding his arms tightly to his sides, that he shouldn't have assumed that the vampire had stayed on the opposite side of the wards. There was no time for questions as his mind fell into oblivion.

His attacker, a man with bone white hair and gold eyes looked down at the unconscious form cradled in his arms. His face was angular, sharp, and there was a certain harshness in the set of his jaw. He looked cruel, with those hollow and cold eyes, but his gentle rearrangement of the body he held spoke differently. A pale hand ran through the dark hair of the boy he held. He could taste the magic humming just beneath the surface, and the vampire blood he could smell was strong. A true heir to one of the thrones. So much potential. It would, perhaps, remind him of that oh-so human sadness when the boy's life ended. He touched a warm cheek gently. Tomorrow then, he would kill the boy.

"How unfortunate that it is you, one with such great ability, that I stumble across this night. Fate does not smile kindly upon you child. So strange it is, that your blood -your life- calls to me, that I draw you out with nary a thought. Though I must wonder, if it was not you who called me." He stood then, and darted into the dark forest looking like little more than a blur with his preternatural speed.


When Harry woke it was to a throbbing headache that made even his teeth hurt. His throat felt sore, raw, and just by touching it he knew it was bruised. He was laying on a bed, but not his. Slowly he sat up and looked around. It wasn't his home. He must have been kidnapped then.

"I was hoping that you would not wake." The voice was so soft that Harry might've thought he had imagined it.

"Who are you?"

"I go by many a name, child, but for the short time you shall be my company you may address me as Cain."

"So... uh... Cain, what do you plan on doing with me?"

"I plan to kill you this evening."


"I know that you are a fairly clever child."

"You're the vampire."


"I guess that I'm going to be your... dinner?"

"That is correct."

"I thought vampires didn't... eat other vampires." Cain gave a small smiled at that and took a seat in one of the chairs in the room. It wasn't often he conversed with his meals, but this was interesting.

"You are not vampire, nor will you ever be. The blood within you, while potent, is dormant and shall remain so. You have the potential to become one, but the process would need to be induced. Of course, the point is moot. You shant live to the morrow."

"Will it hurt?" It was strange that he resigned himself so easily. After the Dursley's and Voldemort, he would have thought that he would fight to live. Perhaps he was tired. Cain appeared thoughtful of the question.

"Would you like it to?"

"Not particularly." He gave the immortal a wry smile.

"Do you know the ways that a vampire makes their bite pleasant?"

"No." He shook his head.

"Ah, then we shall have to see which method you would prefer." Cain didn't know why he was feeling so altruistic. He had never given a thought to his other victims. Their pleasure or pain didn't matter to him, as he was a very selfish creature. He stood with a fluent grace and moved with a casual gate to take a place on the bed. "I can hypnotize you, separate the pain from your mind and let the last thing on your mind be the love that you hold for me." He caressed Harry's cheek. "Or I can simply knock you out again, and you'll never wake up. I can put up any illusion you wish, a family, a friend, a different life, a lover. You'd never know the difference." He carded a hand through that soft hair once more, and then he abruptly rolled over, straddling the boys hips. "Or I could take you in the throws of passion, taking you so high that pleasure meets pain and there is no line to differentiate it anymore."

Cain could feel that heart race, see the dilation of pupils even in the dimly lit room, and smell the small amount of desire. He'd been told, even while human, that he was an attractive man, though he had always thought that his white hair had taken away from his looks. He wasn't vain per se, really he wasn't, but he could honestly admit to missing his old hair color, black as a crow's wings. He shook away his thoughts and leaned closer to the youth, parting his lips in a parody of a smile to show gleaming white fangs.

"Is that what you want, to be enveloped in ecstasy and pleasures of the flesh so euphoric that you don't feel your life slipping away. Knowing that even as my fangs pierce your flesh that you can do nothing but want more of it."

Harry opened his mouth, but then quickly shut it again. If he was going to die, wouldn't it be better to not die a virgin. Sure, this guy seemed like a complete and total arse with the fact that he wanted him dead for no other reason than food and he didn't even know if he really like guys or not, but when it came down to it, he wasn't going to complain. Cain wasn't ugly by any stretch, and physical love was a kind of love too, something he'd been denied. He closed his eyes in thought, trying to decided. It was his choice. No one was going to tell him if it was right or wrong, and no one was going to save him at the last minute. He looked up, bright green meeting startling gold.

"Yes." He hissed, looking towards the ceiling in a resigned fashion. Cain smiled at him in a predatory fashion.


Sharp claws sprung forth on pale hands, and Cain shredded the shirt on the body beneath him. He ignored the blush that sprung up on his partner's face, instead choosing to explore the warmth beneath him. How long had it been since he had taken a lover? A decade? Two? He couldn't even remember. He ran a hand across Harry's chest and stomach in seeming fascination of how the muscles seemed to shy away. He explored gently, taking into account that, as a last time, he wanted to at least make it enjoyable for both of them. He traced ribs down a soft side to the mild curve of a hip. Cain's animalistic smile was back as the very point of his claw followed the path of fabric across to the opposite side and back before completely cutting away the button that held the material closed.

Those brilliant green eyes were suddenly open, staring at him with a slight fear. He leaned forward slowly, capturing delicate lips in a soft kiss. His placidness was rewarded when hands wove their way into his hair, urging him on. And on he went. He slid lower, bracing his weight on his arms as he nuzzled at the tender flesh of Harry's throat. A sharp nip drew a gasp, and Cain smiled around his fangs. He lapped at the collar bone. The boy tasted good. In a move to quick to see, Cain had tore apart the denim pants and restrained Harry's arms at his sides. His prize would not be getting away anytime soon.

Passion. It wasn't a feeling similar to anything Harry had ever felt. He enjoyed the delicate caresses. They made him feel wanted, that he was something special, but they were nothing compared to the heavy hold that pinned him. Being held down, restrained, lit something in him. It was an all consuming fire that twisted through his body, coming to the surface where those hands, that mouth, touched his skin. His body writhed and inarticulate sounds, so soft, escaped his throat. Merlin those teeth! They bit down, just hard enough to draw the faintest traces of blood. He couldn't help but offer himself up to those greedy lips.

Desire coursed through him. Skin on skin. He hadn't even noticed when Cain had shed his clothes. One of those fair clawed hands reached between them for him, and he didn't even try to stop the new sounds, urgent in their taste, that came forth with the strokes. That second hand drifted lower, preparing him for things to come, and Harry couldn't help but find this pain all the more enticing as well.

He hissed and writhed under the larger body, begging - pleading for some thing more. Then that wicked mouth fell over his again. The vampire tasted like blood, all metallic coppers and bitter sweetness, but he couldn't complain. He drank him in, swallowed him down, and when the elder's magic unfurled, wrapped himself in that thick cloying darkness that almost burned in its depth. And then finally -Finally!- he was being filled, taking the other in inch by inch until Cain was pressed fully against him. Harry twisted, back turning into a perfect arch as the vampire started to move. Lithe, strong arms held him still as the pace quickened, driving him to thrash in that pale hold. He felt the shudder of energy as his own magic lifted from his skin to whip against the vampires. For a moment he lost all physical sensation, the scent of sex, the feel of slick skin moving against slick skin, the sound of their bodies coming together, that taste of blood that still lingered in his mouth, all for the sight of their magic -twisting, curling, striking- against each other.

'It's like the magic is fighting.' He thought detachedly.


Harry was drawn back to the present moment. The vampire's actions faltered an instant, his body seeming to coil back, lips pulled back over fangs that seemed to have grown larger. Harry was, some how, quicker. He sunk his own fangs (when did they get there?) into that pale column of throat with no remorse. Liquid life filled his mouth and poured down his throat. He felt the pain of claws sinking into his back, trying to rip him away, but he had locked his legs and arms around Cain's body. There was no way for the vampire to rid himself of Harry. Cain was going to die; they both knew it. When Harry did pull away, his mouth covered in blood, Cain was even more pale. His skin shown like polished marble in the faint light. A weak chuckled pushed its way out of the vampire's throat even as he collapsed, boneless, onto his side.

"Perhaps..." He took a shuddering breath. "Perhaps fate does smile upon you. Then again," He laughed this time, a shrill sound that almost made Harry wince. "She may not. Good luck on your journey, young Ancient." Cain's body shuddered out its last breath and fell still.

"Journey?" Was all he was able to say before black over took his vision, and he felt himself stolen away by unconsciousness.