Their conversation was interrupted by a small cry from one of the room upstairs.
Harry looked at Bertrand with that cocky, knowing glance again.
"Come with me." He smirked.
A second later they were in a room- a child's nursery, by the looks of the brightly coloured toys strewn across the floor. The crib was also a give-away, holding a child of about 8 months, who was stirring feebly.
"Meet your grandson." Harry mocked, taking the baby from the crib and rubbing his back soothingly.
Bertrand shot him a scathing look, before turning his attention back to the child. He had a few tufts of his father's black hair, but the eyes were hazel.
"Angela's eyes…" Bertrand murmured. The name tasted strange on his tongue.
"Also her mother's eyes."
Bertrand made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.
"Let me get this straight." He said angrily "You want me to go off who knows where to try and get her memory back. It may not even be possible, and you're trying to convince me to do this by stating that Angela's son has Armeneta's eyes?"
"OK- so that's a bit pathetic. But what would Armeneta want you to do?"
"She never wanted anything to do with her."
"Neither did you."
"I- that's different."
"In what way?"
Bertrand could think of no answer to that.
"Exactly." He smiled triumphantly.
"Just because I didn't want her then, doesn't mean I don't want her now" he hissed, slightly confused by the direction his argument was taking.
"Then help her."
Bertrand avoided his probing gaze.
"Ahh.." Harry realised finally "You don't want help me."
"Well, why should I help you?" Bertrand snarled.
"I married her for a reason." He placed his son carefully back in his crib "I swore I would help her. And I tried. I honestly tried. But I came to nothing but dead ends. You're her last hope."
Bertrand took a step away from him, hating the fact he'd said 'her last hope' instead of 'his last hope.'
"Do you know where she is now?" harry asked, trying a new tactic. When Bertrand didn't respond, he went on "By the lake. She goes there when the nightmares are bad and I can't help her. She dreams of darkness filled with agony. She wakes up screaming. I can't take it. Pretty soon, she won't be able to take it anymore either."
Once again they were interrupted, this time by a key turning in the front door. Harry darted to the window; throwing it open and gesturing for Bertrand to exit through it. He was outside in an instant, but he did not leave. He clung to the side of the house, peering through the glass. A few seconds later, Angela walked into the room.
There it was again. That rush of longing and guilt at the sight of her.
His daughter. His child, his only child. Her face was composed into a small smile for her husband, but she was dead behind the eyes that were the wrong colour. The sight of her face, in that one moment, would haunt him forever.
She stepped into Harry's arms, burring her head in his chest. He looked over her shoulder to meet Bertrand's gaze.
'Help her.' His eyes said 'Please.'
Bertrand nodded once, before dropping down and walking away from the house. It wasn't that surprising, really. He'd known from the beginning he would do anything for his daughter, despite the fact it meant teaming up with the second most devious vampire on the planet.
He himself was, of course, at the number one spot.