Into The Long Dark

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never will be. All HP characters belong to JK and Warner Brothers, etc, etc, etc. Rael,Yuri, & Tommy belong to me.

The events in this fic take place after Book 6.

Beta'd by EAS. Thanks, Luv! Thanks also to Alisanne at Cipher and to DreamPet for their continued support!

And again, my deepest thanks to the readers who have stuck with me on this! You're the best! -- Wolfiekins

Sunday, 10 August 1997


~~~~SEVENTEEN ~~~~"CONVERGENCE II"~~~~


There were few other people in the alley as Percy slipped out the side door of The Dragon's Lair. The night was warm, with a few clouds moving swiftly across the starry sky. A gentle breeze stirred bits of rubbish in the alley. The muffled sound of the nearby traffic and the excited voices of the clubbers were underscored by the faint rhythm of the pub's sound system, which vibrated out into the alley. Glancing about quickly, Percy noted two couples walking arm in arm towards Hanover. A pair of blokes leaned against the brick wall, attempting to suck their intestines out through their mouths. The loud, moist slurping sounds of their snog were impossible to ignore.

"Get a room!" Percy quipped as he stalked past them, focused on the tall figure moving quickly down the alley towards Shipton. His brother was moving effortlessly towards the end of the alley. Percy followed hastily, darting along the left side of the alley, stopping here and there, behind posts or rubbish containers.

Oh, this was so good! The elder Weasley grinned with satisfaction. It always helped to have something to hold over someone's head. Percy silently thanked Merlin for presenting him with the wonderful tidbit. He couldn't wait to drop this little dungbomb on his youngest brother. The look on Ron's face would be priceless!

Percy was about to step out from his hiding spot behind a utility post when Ron stopped abruptly and squashed himself against the brick wall near the alley's exit onto Shipton. A second later, Ron backed up and stepped into a nearby doorway, disappearing from Percy's view. At nearly the same instant, two men rounded the corner from Shipton, heading up the alley. Percy took Ron's lead, and found his own dark doorway a few feet up the alley. Carefully peering around the edge of the clammy brick, he watched as the couple moved towards and past him. They were deep in conversation, oblivious to all but each other. It was quite dark in the alley, but there were pools of lighter areas dotted here and there along its course. Percy squinted at the two figures as they moved through a small square of light cast down by a second story window.

At first, Percy thought that the taller man was his brother, Bill. What the hell is he doing here? he thought briefly. Then, as they walked past him, Percy noted that this red-head wasn't quite as tall or muscular as his oldest brother. Too pale, and much too old. Percy wouldn't have been surprised to see Bill heading towards a gay bar, though. The oldest Weasley sibling had always played the field. Bloody bi-sexuals! They'll screw anything that moves! He snorted softly as he turned his attention to the other figure walking past him.

He had been so focused on the taller of the two that Percy had neglected to take in the shorter man. It took only a nanosecond for him to draw in a deep breath and hold it in. There was no mistaking it. Yes, the dark hair was longer, wilder, but there was no overlooking the glasses, the walk, and that beautifully tight little arse. He blinked repeatedly as Harry Potter moved closer to the red-head as they headed down the alley. Percy again smiled to himself. This was a most enlightening evening, indeed! He chuckled quietly, rubbing his hands together with glee. Then, a shape slipped past his archway, and Percy flattened himself against the cool steel of the door. His heart thudding in his chest, he peeked out once more. Percy saw that Ron had moved by him and was intensely observing Potter and his companion.

Ron then concealed himself in another doorway about twenty feet from where Percy stood. He was debating whether or not to approach his brother when yet another shadow flowed by his hiding place. It hunkered down near a rubbish dumpster just past the spot where Ron was hiding. Percy couldn't make out much about this new arrival as he crouched down and peered around the garbage container. Clearly, his attentions were focused on Potter and his friend as well. This was getting even better than he had hoped!

Looking up the alley again, Percy saw that Potter and the red-head had passed under a dim streetlamp and were now standing facing each other, deep in conversation. Potter was gesturing widely with his arms. Percy watched as Ron emerged from his hiding place and approached the new arrival, who was still crouching next to the dumpster. His younger brother had pulled out his wand. Slowly drawing his own wand, Percy cautiously stepped out from his doorway, moving as silently as he could towards his brother and the unsuspecting stranger.

Percy was nearly upon Ron and the other shape when all Hell broke loose in the alley.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Narcissa was draped across her overstuffed armchair, lazily leafing through The Sunday Prophet. She sighed heavily, reaching for the glass of brandy on the nearby table. Taking a small sip, she replaced the snifter on the tabletop just as a small knock sounded on the door to her bedchamber. A second later, it opened silently, and Brev padded across the huge room. The Malfoy house elf stopped next to Narcissa's armchair and stood patiently, his knobby hands clasped together across his waist. After several moments of silence from his mistress, he shifted slightly, clearing his throat as he smoothed the crisp, white tea-towel draped over his body.

The Lady of The Manor turned several more pages of her paper, finally closing it and folding it neatly. She then placed it on the table beside her glass, which she picked up. Swirling the brandy about once or twice, Narcissa took a few long sips as she stared at the fire in the hearth. After a few minutes more, she returned the glass to the sidetable and smoothed her dressing gown with her immaculate, ring-encrusted fingers. Finally turning her attention to Brev, she took an exaggerated breath, staring at her house elf icily. Brev was eyeing his mistress with equal coolness. Narcissa harrumphed.

"You shall wipe that expression from that ugly face of yours this instant. If we ever see that look upon your countenance again, we shall return you to the kitchens at Hogwarts so quickly your misshapen little head will be spinning for hours." She re-arranged herself delicately in her armchair, taking great pains to ensure that her gown draped across her long, shapely legs just so. Again grasping her snifter, she drained the remaining brandy. A second later, the empty glass shot out of her hand towards Brev. His gnarled gray hand deftly intercepted the hurtling stemware mere inches from his face.

With a bored sigh, the elf banished the glass and stared at Narcissa. "Would Mistress desire another drink?"

Narcissa was examining her nails with interest. "Yes. And bring us the bottle this time. Was there anything else? We had asked not to be disturbed."

Brev blinked. "Yes, Mistress. You have a visitor. He apologizes most sincerely for the lateness of the hour, but states that he has urgent business to discuss with you."

There was a notable pause as Narcissa glared at her elf. "Well?" She snapped.

"Mistress?" Brev tilted his head slightly, a faint smile spreading across his face.

"Who is it, you imbecile?! We cannot believe that you came so highly recommended! Dobby was infinitely better, you miserable excuse for a servant! We shall certainly take this matter up with Minerva at the earliest opportunity!" Narcissa huffed petulantly. "Well? Who is here to see us?"

The house elf grinned. "Severus Snape awaits your courtesies, Mistress. Shall I admit him or send him away?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and a small, tight smile formed on her crimson lips. Narcissa rose from her chair and glided across the bedchamber. She sat demurely at her dressing table, and began fussing with her hair, carefully arranging any strands even remotely out of place.

"Send him in. You will wait a few minutes before you allow him up, do you understand? And do not forget the brandy. Bring two glasses!" She dabbed at her flawless skin with her puff.

"Yes, Mistress," Brev hissed. He swiveled on his heel and stalked across the room and through the door, which the elf left slightly ajar.

Finishing her primping, Narcissa rose and strode to stand in front of the huge hearth. She arranged her gown and assumed her most imposing stance, her back to the door. In this position, she could see Snape's reflection in the huge mirror in the corner as he entered the room without looking at him directly. She shivered slightly. The fire was burning down. She made a mental note to remind Brev to stoke the fire.

A moment later, she heard soft footfalls in the hall. The door opened, and Snape moved into the bedchamber. He walked slowly across the room, shoulders thrown back, his hands clasped behind him. He titled his head slightly to one side, clearly waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his arrival.

Narcissa made as if she were examining the portrait of herself that hung over the mantel. She could also see Snape clearly in the mirror. He had taken to tying his hair back into a short ponytail. Not exactly flattering, she thought. He had also adopted a Muggle mode of dress. He wore a tailored black shirt. The black satin fabric shimmered softly in the firelight. The shirt was open nearly half-way, exposing his pale chest. A huge gold symbol that hung on a delicate chain. She admired the tight-fitting, crisply pressed black silk trousers which fell perfectly onto his highly polished ebony leather shoes. The trousers accentuated his rather enticing package very nicely. She noted the expectant expression on his face with satisfaction.

Urgent message, indeed. It has been too long, Severus.

Without turning to face her guest, Narcissa took a few steps toward the fireplace, and began fussing with some of the bric-a-brac on the mantel.

"Well, I must say it has been a long time, Severus. We do approve of your new wardrobe selections. Infinitely more flattering than your previous, shall we say, rather uninspired outfits? We are not so sure about your new hairstyle. Not exactly age appropriate, is it?" A glance toward the mirror showed that Snape had advanced a few steps closer. He was smiling widely at her, his eyes drinking her in from head to toe. Perfect!

"My, my, quiet this evening, aren't we? No matter. I like the strong, silent type." Narcissa drew a breath and turned to face her visitor.

"Yes, most timely for you to visit, we should think. No doubt your detestable little toady has told you of our displeasure with the entire situation. You have completely mishandled things, Severus. And I fear that Draco is beyond redemption. He has failed this family for the last time. We have been more than patient with you. However, if you have anything to say in your defense, Severus, we are more than willing to hear it."

Snape simply stood there, smiling, silent. Narcissa's carefully assembled smile faltered a moment, not expecting this non-response. Her guest took a step closer to her, a small tic pulling at the corner of his mouth. She arched an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. When Snape remained silent, she nodded.

"Very well, we can discuss the matter later." She strode over the Snape, never taking her eyes from his impassive black orbs. Narcissa moved next to her guest, gently running one of her fingers along the chain, stopping at the golden symbol that hung between his pale, firm pecs. Her other hand came up and brushed against the front of his trousers, feeling his hardening cock beneath the smooth fabric. She pressed against him, tilting her head slightly so that she could press her lips against the skin on the side of his neck. She began to nibble at the flesh there, gently at first, gradually increasing her pressure and intensity. Her hand began to stroke the length of Snape's erectness, each pass of her fingers eliciting a tiny gasp of pleasure from him. The former Potions Master put his head back, a ragged moan escaping his slightly parted lips. Narcissa sucked and pulled at Snape's tender flesh, causing a yelp of pleasure from him when she gave a final bite. She pulled her head back, smiling at the quickly reddening area on his neck. Her teeth had left plain impressions there, and two tiny dots of blood welled up slowly.

Snape stared at her, his smile evaporating instantly. He swung his arms up and grabbed her roughly, pulling her towards him and mashing his lips into hers. Snape thrust his tongue over and past Narcissa's protesting lips, and ground his rock-hard erection savagely against her. Narcissa tensed immediately, completely taken by surprise. Snape had never before acted in such a manner, nor had he ever done anything but follow her lead. She attempted to break free, but Snape only tightened his grip upon her. He continued to grasp her firmly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arms. When Snape released the pressure on her mouth, she pulled her face away from his, but he swiftly leaned down and attempted to smother her mouth once more.

Narcissa jerked away as best she could, and Snape only was able to catch her bottom lip. Eagerly, he bit down on her supple flesh, causing Narcissa to shriek in pain and surprise. She summoned all of her strength, breaking free of his clutching hands. Stepping away from him, her eyes went wide as gaped back at him. Snape's eyes were wild, and a crooked sneer was forming upon his lips. A few strands of jet black hair had come loose from the satin ribbon tying it, hanging loosely about his face. She reached up to brush a hand across her stinging lip, and when she looked at her fingers, there was blood upon them. Snape chuckled then, and slowly advanced towards her.

To her credit, Narcissa drew herself up with a deep breath and held her ground. When Snape was close enough, she let her hand fly with all the strength she possessed, striking his face with a resounding slap. Snape ceased his approach, and smiled again, his hands clasping together at his waist. Narcissa remained motionless for a moment longer, before whirling about and stalking over to her dressing table. As she began to dab at her rapidly swelling lip, Brev marched into the room, laden with a tray holding the brandy and two glasses. The elf set the tray down with a clatter, and left the room, casting a sideways glance at his Mistress. Narcissa had finished tending to her lip and was attempting to salvage her tousled hair.

"We should think that this despicable outburst has brought your visit to an end. You shall pay dearly for this, Severus. You shall know the wrath of the Malfoy family. Once we have met with the Dark Lord, you shall have your comeuppance. Get out of our house. Now!" She rose from her dressing table, pausing a moment before facing Snape once more with her most menacing gaze. It drained from her face almost instantly.

Snape was convulsing slightly, huge retching noises catching in his throat. When he could contain them no more, he began to laugh out loud, a strange, bizarre laugh, his head tilting back as he drew in deep breaths. Before her very eyes, Snape shimmered and blurred, morphing into Minerva McGonagall. Narcissa watched, stunned, mouth agape, as McGonagall's laughing ended abruptly. A split second later, the Headmistress had whipped her wand out of her cloak, pointing it directly at Narcissa.

"Good bye, you worthless bitch!"

The deadly green light erupted from the end of McGonagall's wand, striking Narcissa in the center of her face. The force of the Unforgivable threw her limp body across the bedchamber, landing in a tangled heap at the foot of the bed. McGonagall stepped over to the corpse, examining the blackened remains of Narcissa's face. Returning her wand to her cloak and wiping her hands together, she strode over to the brandy and poured herself a glass. Sipping on the excellent vintage, she walked leisurely about the huge bedchamber. Stopping at the hearth, McGonagall gazed up at the huge portrait of the now deceased Lady of Malfoy Manor.

Draining her snifter, she tossed it into the dying fire. Turning to look at the body once more, McGonagall transfigured herself into the splitting image of the woman in the painting. Drawing her wand, she pointed it at Narcissa's body and murmured an incantation. The corpse trembled and shuddered, slowly shrinking and collapsing in upon itself, crackling loudly as large amounts of energy were released. Smaller and smaller it shrank, until finally the crackling ceased. McGonagall walked over to the newly transfigured log, and gingerly picked it up. She moved towards the fireplace, and carefully placed the still warm log onto the neat stack of firewood next to the hearth.

Casting another charm, McGonagall cleaned up any signs of struggle and subsequent transfiguration. As if on cue, Brev entered the room, looking curiously at his Mistress.

"Is Mistress going out? Where is my Lady's guest?" the house elf squeaked anxiously.

McGonagall instantly raised her wand and Obliviated Brev's memory of Snape's visit. When the elf blinked back to reality a moment later, he saw Narcissa emerging from her dressing room, throwing a traveling cloak about her shoulders.

"Is Mistress going out?" The house elf squeaked anxiously.

"Yes, Brev. I am going to see the Dark Lord. I have finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I will promise Him anything He desires to salvage the honour of the Malfoy Family. He cannot refuse me. I shall not be long."

As she strode past the confused elf, his Mistress left him one final command.

"Oh, and please stoke the fire, Brev. This room has developed a rather distinct chill." She smiled evilly as she walked out the door, her cloak trailing out behind her.

Brev nodded, and shuffling over to the fireplace, he grabbed the topmost log and threw it into the hearth.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Despite the constant withering stares from Tommy every time he stalked past their table, Harry actually began to enjoy his conversation with Rael. Once he had caught his breath, that is. His sides still ached from laughing so hard over the revelation of Rael's real name. Once they had both recovered, their conversation had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Harry found that he didn't care for the espresso. He had never been a coffee drinker, so the thick, bitter, pure coffee flavor of the drink didn't agree with him. Rael ordered him a cappuccino next, and he liked that much better. After a rather awkward silence, Harry had started by asking Rael about himself. The vampire answered easily, freely divulging the requested information.

Rael was a Muggle, as were his parents, who were both dead. His mother was American. His father, Herbert Pinklett, Sr., was an RAF pilot in the second Muggle World War. The two met just before the war ended, married, and Rael was born shortly thereafter. He had no siblings. His father's family had owned a small cafe, and after the war, his parents took over the business. He grew up in that cafe, and after completion of his schooling, Rael had taken over the business so that his parents could retire. He had been attacked and turned one evening, years later, just a few blocks from The Daily Grind. The vampire that made him disappeared, and Rael still had no idea as to his identity. He had faced his new condition completely alone and unprepared. Harry wanted to learn more, but it became apparent that Rael was becoming apprehensive about discussing his past any further.

Changing subjects, he then engaged Rael in a talk about vampire lore. Rael had made it a point to educate himself as much as was possible about his condition. Harry found that much of what he had been taught at Hogwarts about vampires was either inaccurate or completely wrong. Holy Water did nothing but get them wet. Crucifixes had no effect on vampires either, unless of course, you stabbed them with it. It was true that you could destroy a vampire by driving a stake through their heart. But if you didn't remove the head from the body, the vampire would reanimate. Some vampires could tolerate daylight. Rael was one that could. Vampires could eat and drink, although it was mostly for show as their bodies needed very little in the way of normal food. Of course, blood was a necessity. Not on a daily basis, though. Rael could go for several days without 'feeding,' as he called it. And is was possible to subsist on animal blood, although this method of feeding was not nearly as satisfying. Harry wanted to ask how Rael chose whom to feed upon, but thought that it might be best to save that rather personal question for another time.

Then Harry asked if every vampire could create more vampires. Rael paused a long moment before answering.

"Yes, Harry, every vampire has the ability to create more vampires. But the real problem lies in the very nature of the person chosen. The Dark Gift affects everyone differently. The vampire must choose whom they wish to turn very carefully. The very young should never be turned. Nor should anyone with deep emotional problems, those that are terminally ill or seriously infirm. Others that should never be turned are the mentally ill, umbalanced, or those who desire power over all else, for example. The Dark Gift amplifies these existing conditions. All in all, it is not something to be taken lightly."

Harry nodded, watching as Rael eyed him intently. "So you have turned someone, then. But after last night, you said..."

Rael nodded in acknowledgement, taking a sip of his cappuccino. "Yes, I have turned more than few. But never on a whim. Never without the person's express permission to do so. And I have bestowed the Dark Gift as an alternative to certain death."

"So, you would turn me if I asked you to?" Harry's emerald eyes bored into Rael.

"If I knew that that was what you truly desired, yes, I would. Without hesitation. But I do not think that is something you want, is it Harry?"

"But last night you told me you would never consign anyone to your fate. Right? Last night, I wanted it."

Rael pursed his lips. "I'm sure you did. I believe I said that I would never inflict my fate upon someone. Quite different, when you think about it. That is what I'm trying to say, Harry. The responsibility, the burden of that decision was entirely mine. Anyone who is bitten by a vampire wants to be turned. They will always ask, if not beg for it. So you see how very important it is for the vampire to exercise caution and above all, restraint when considering turning someone. Last night, I wouldn't, couldn't have taken you seriously if you had asked it of me. Tonight?" The vampire paused, taking another sip from his cup.

"What do you want, Harry? Truly, more than anything else?"

Harry remained silent, staring at the tabletop. He supposed it was only fair that Rael had turned the tables on him. But this was not the question that Harry wanted to answer right now. He wasn't sure that he could, anyway. His stomach began to churn slightly. The silence began to stretch when Tommy suddenly wafted by, stopping for a moment to pick up their empty cups. Harry looked up at the server, who was glaring down at him with his intense hazel eyes. Tommy glanced at Rael for a moment, then back to Harry. He rolled his eyes and walked over to the service bar, muttering to himself. Harry looked back over to Rael, who was staring at Tommy as he annoyed the counterperson.

"So, how long ago did you turn Tommy? He seems a bit young, doesn't he?"

Rael snapped is gaze back to the young Wizard. His grey eyes looked beyond Harry. When he answered, his voice was low, nearly a whisper.

"I gave Tommy the Dark Gift just over a year ago. And yes, he is rather young. Too young. But there was no other choice. Because I acted selfishly, I placed him in a dangerous situation. I failed to protect him when he was at his most vulnerable. He very nearly died because of me." Rael paused for a moment to take a sip of his drink. Harry thought that he would continue, but the vampire remained silent.

"So you turned him to save him? And you still feel responsible for him." Harry gauged Rael's reaction, then continued. "He's in love with you, but you don't feel the same way about him, right?"

Rael took a deep breath, speaking downward into the tabletop. "He's too young to know about love. I don't I know any more than he does, most of the time. The Dark Gift doesn't enlighten or provide any insight that didn't exist previously. All I know is that I feel something for you, Harry, something that I haven't felt for a long time."

Harry nodded slightly. "I don't know much about love, either, Rael. I know I'm attracted to you. But I also have feelings for someone else. A person I've known for years. He's in love with me, whatever that means. And he is so alone. So vulnerable. He needs me. I don't know what to do. It's so fucking confusing." His stomach was beginning to turn itself into knots. Harry was certain it wasn't the coffee.

Rael was gazing at him from across the table, his bright, grey eyes filled with understanding. "Yeah, I'm sure it is confusing, Harry. I don't mean to be upsetting. Look, how about we take a little walk. Just over to Hanover. A neat little place where we can continue our conversation. I think you'll like it. And that way Tommy can concentrate on the customers instead of us." Rael leaned forward, attempting to catch Harry's gaze. The Wizard turned his eyes up to the vampire's for a brief moment before returning to stare at the table.

"Ok, fine. But I shouldn't stay out too late. I need to get back home early tonight."

Rael nodded, and stood up. Harry did as well, and as he turned to head towards the front door, Tommy appeared right in front of him, almost as if from thin air.

"Oh, leaving so soon? Shame on you, Herbert. You never introduced me to your new, uh, friend." The server smiled, but his tone dripped with sarcasm.

Rael glared at the young vampire. "Tommy, this is Harry. Harry, I believe you already know Tommy."

Tommy bowed his head slightly, and reached out to grab Harry's right hand. He brought it up to his lips, and kissed the back of it with a loud slurping sound.

"Charmed, I'm sure." He used and exaggerated accent, sounding like a sex-starved Bela Lugosi. Tommy grinned, and then snickered as Harry withdrew his hand.

"Yeah, sure. Good to meet ya, Tommy. Rael, we need to go." Harry paused a moment, and started moving for the door. Tommy didn't move, and forced Harry to squeeze between the server and the table. Their faces passed very closely to each other, and Harry caught Tommy's scent, which was very similar to Rael's. Once past the young vampire, Harry strode quickly down the narrow aisle. Rael simply pushed Tommy out of the way.

"Very nice, Thomas. Very nice." The older vampire glowered down at the server for a moment before turning to follow Harry.

"See ya later!" Tommy called after them, his voice now adoptong a mocking sing-song tone.

Rael caught up with Harry at the door, and the two of them walked out onto the street. Rael indicated they head towards the alley, and the two walked in silence until they rounded the corner. The vampire sighed, looking down at the shorter Wizard.

"I have to apologize for Tommy. He still hasn't adjusted to his new life. It wasn't an optimal situation when I turned him. It takes time for some, even under the best of circumstances."

Harry only nodded. "What you mean is that it takes time to get used to the idea of killing people to survive, right? How long did it take you to get used to that?" They walked a bit more before Rael spoke again.

"It took me awhile, Harry. Like I said, I was on my own. I had to figure things out for myself. After a fashion, I devised a manner to satisfy my special needs without sacrificing my remaining morality, or self-respect." Rael drew a deep breath as Harry snorted.

"The morality of a vampire? Interesting concept. Tell me, do you just flip a coin, or close your eyes and point?" Harry looked up as Rael was shaking his head.

"I don't pretend to be some sort of angel, Harry. I do the best I can to survive. I go to great lengths to ensure that the innocent do not suffer because of my condition. I'm sorry if that isn't good enough for you. I had hoped that you might understand." He reached out to touch Harry on the shoulder.

The Wizard didn't react to the contact.

"Yeah, maybe I do understand. A little too well. Sorry, Rael, I guess this wasn't such a good idea after all." Harry shrugged his shoulders. Rael's hand slid off, falling back to his side at they walked.

When he spoke again, the vampire sounded tired, defeated. "This isn't going like I had planned, Harry. I was never good at this sort of thing. You'd think I'd have sorted it out after all this time, yeah?"

Harry took a few more steps, stopping just beyond the lamppost. Rael turned around to face him. The Wizard was staring at the debris-covered cobbles. He didn't raise his head as he spoke.

"Look, it's just that I've got a lot on my mind right now. I know I could have feelings for you, but I know I have them for...well, for someone else, too. It's just that, well......it's just......" His voice trailing off.

Rael stepped closer, his tone soft, compassionate. "It's just what, Harry? Tell me. I want to know." Harry's head popped up, his emerald eyes ablaze.

"I just can't get involved with anyone. Not you, not Neville, not......no matter how much I want to..." He paused a microsecond, swallowing hard before continuing.

"I just can't do it! Do this! You don't understand! You can't! I don't want anything to happen to anyone because of me. Not again. I don't want anyone to get hurt anymore because of me!" His voice had risen steadily, and Harry was now gesturing animatedly with his arms.

"I don't want to lose anyone else! I don't want anymore death on my hands, Rael, there's been too much already, and I don't think I can handle anymore!"

Rael was nodding slightly. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders, pulling the trembling Wizard close to him.

"Don't worry about that, Harry. Nothing can really happen to me. I'd like to at least try to be a friend to you, if you let me. I might understand a lot more than you think. Besides, I'm pretty capable of taking care of myself, you know."

Harry looked up at him, his green eyes misting slightly. Rael smiled again, and bent down to press his lips to the pale remnants of the Mark. The vampire gently massaged the area with his tongue, enjoying Harry's reaction. Rael began to move his lips up Harry's neck, kissing and sucking gently all the way, when there was a series of loud cracks. An instant later, the alley was filled with flying curses, hexes, and angry yells.