A Vampire's Soul

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter twenty-one

Pairings: Harry/Draco, slight Harry/Ron/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, slight Harry/Ron, Harry/Remus, Harry/others, other male/male

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Vampires, so there’s blood mentioned; violence; Slash; slight Het, multi-partners, and a touch non-con but not really. ALSO, there will be a few OCs, only because I need them for the story/plotline, but Proudfoot is a name mentioned in book six, I just don’t know his personality.

Words: About 4,800

Notes: There’s Original Characters in the fic, and I apologize. (and if you don’t like it, tough cheese!) Harry’s role in the Daywalkers’ world is growing, thus there needs to be Daywalker characters (as well as other Werewolves).
*More notes on bottom*

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, nor do I own anything from Dracula. I do own all the other characters in this story that isn’t in the Potter books.

Chapter written: June 9th, 2007

.-.

Lilith was the well-respected and loved leader of her werewolf pack. She and her people resided in a shady glen at the very edge of the Black Forest. They had thought about moving back to the Forbidden Forest, where they used to live, because of all the vampires that live in the Black Forest, but Greyback and his pack had been growing at an alarming rate, and it was putting more stress and pressure on her pack.

There are two known werewolf packs: Fenrir Greyback’s and Lilith’s. The werewolves that wished to live as normal as possible (and wanted to be free of oppression) joined Lilith’s pack. Those that were for the Dark Lord and his evil ways joined Greyback’s pack. They’ve been at each other’s throats, so to speak, for years now. There was a time when Lilith thought about going back to the Forbidden Forest because of how many times her people were attacked by the vampires, but Prince Vlad was a reasonable person; he did what he could to keep their groups from going into all out war. Greyback’s werewolves were fair game, however.

She wasn’t very strong physically—she was rather lanky—but she was graceful, smart, cunning, and had great love for her fellow pack. Her pack loved and respected her, like Prince Vlad’s people loved him. She stood at an average height, had dark hair and hazel-brown eyes; wore something akin to rags in the shape of a strapless dress that was so short it made her legs look long. She had been married once, to another werewolf named Lobo. It was another reason why she didn’t want to return to the Forbidden Forest: her husband was slain there. By Greyback.

The mere thought of the murderous beast made her grind her teeth and clench her fists. Her best friend, Ruby, stared at her worryingly, but before she could ask Lilith what was wrong, there was a sudden “caw” at the window of their hut. They both looked up at the sound. It was a raven.

“Is that-?” Ruby said.

“I think so,” said Lilith, somewhat confused. She stood from her spot and carefully walked toward the bird. The raven cocked its head when she came nearer and it made Lilith pause. Ravens gave her the creeps, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. It might be the fact that ravens were associated with bad omens and death.

The raven cawed again and flapped its wings. Lilith inched closer; holding out what she hoped was a friendly hand.

“Hello,” she said cautiously. “Do you have something for me… ah, I see you do…” she said with a smile when she noticed the note tied to the raven’s leg. “You must belong to Prince Vlad.”

“Vlad! Vlad!” said the raven. It startled her so much she almost fell over. She had forgotten that Prince Vlad’s raven could speak a few words, like a parrot. If she remembered correctly, though, parrots and ravens were the only type of bird that could imitate human speech.

“Y-yes, him,” said Lilith. “Could I have his note?”

The raven just stared. Lilith sighed, and finding what little courage she had, she moved forward and tried to take the note.

The raven flew a couple inches off the windowsill and tried to peck at her hand.

“Stupid bird!” Lilith growled, pulling her hand away in time. “You’re supposed to let me have that note. It’s from your master Vlad!”

“Vlad! Vlad!” the raven said again. Lilith was seething. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the raven.

“Whoa! Hold on there, chief. I don’t think Prince Vlad would appreciate it if you hexed his raven,” Ruby said.

Slowly, Ruby moved toward the bird. Ruby had been named appropriately, Lilith thought; she had bright red hair, orange eyes, and her skin was even tinged with orange, as if she had eaten too many carrots. She was smaller built than Lilith, but oddly she had a cooler head on her shoulders. Redheads were known for losing their tempers, but she rarely saw Ruby lose hers.

When the raven flew up again, and Lilith thought it was about to attack, Ruby pulled out something from her pocket. Because it was shiny, the raven flew straight for her hand, but not to peck at it. Beaming, Ruby took the note off the raven’s leg once it had landed and clasped its beak around the shiny object.

“Nice trick,” said Lilith, impressed. “Where’d you learn that?”

Ruby smiled. “Lobo taught it to me, a long time ago.”

Lilith frowned. The mention of her deceased husband always hurt, no matter how long ago it had been.

“I’m sorry, Lilith,” said Ruby. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok,” said Lilith quickly. “I was the one who asked. Um, so… the note?”

“Oh yeah… here you go.” Ruby handed it to her.

Lilith opened the letter and read it slowly. Ruby stared at her, waiting for her reaction. If Prince Vlad was writing to Lilith, it must be important.

“Well?” said Ruby, losing patience. “What does he say?”

Lilith looked up from the note, a strange and confused expression on her face. “He says that he would like our help—that Harry Potter is now a Daywalker, but now his life is in danger. He was bitten by a soulless vampire.”

Ruby shivered. She remembered those horrible monsters. It made her glad that she was a werewolf and had too tough of skin for vampires to pierce easily. Of course, the awful tasting blood was a bonus too.

“That means You-Know-Who has a better chance to win, if Potter isn’t cured.”

“Exactly,” said Lilith. “We’ll get our best scouts assembled for the hunt.”

“How about—does Remus Lupin know about this?”

“I’m not sure. If I know the Order of the Phoenix well enough, then I’m sure most of them already know. Let’s go; we haven’t a moment to lose.”

.-.

The young girl was telling Harry the truth, apparently. There was a campfire and next to it was a balding old man. He stood when Harry came into the clearing, carrying the girl in his arms.

“Bloody Hell, what happened to my daughter?” the man gasped. “She wasn’t raped, was she?”

Harry nearly smiled at that, but he kept his face neutral. “No, she wasn’t raped… she was attacked by a monster and needs medical attention straightaway.”

“Crikey!” the father said. He took out what looked to be a cell phone and dialed. “Hello? Yes, I would like an ambulance sent here straightaway… it’s my daughter…”

Harry laid the girl down by the fire. The monster inside him wanted to take the old man’s blood as well, but he had a feeling his blood wouldn’t be as good and pure as the girl’s. He realized just why her blood tasted so good, even though she was a Muggle—she was a virgin.

Not sticking around to listen to the rest of the father’s ranting over the phone, he quickly walked away. There, he did a good thing, even though he was slowly losing his soul. He could feel it deep in his bones… the monster was growing. What it was saying now was that he needed to find someone that was a magic user; they’re the ones that had the best blood, and they’re the ones that can help him get closer to being a full—non-human—vampire! His monster roared and cheered inside him. Yes, that was what he needed… a witch or wizard.

He slumped against a tree a few feet away from the Muggles' campsite and buried his face into his hands. It was getting harder and harder to control his monster and he didn’t know when he’d completely lose it. As long as he stayed there, in the Black Forest, he was a menace to everyone.

‘Go far away…’ his conscious said. ‘They’re looking for you anyway, and when they find you, they won’t let you have anymore blood… you must flee!’

“No…” Harry groaned. He didn’t want to leave his friends and those he loved. If he did that, what would that prove? “It would prove that you’re a coward, Potter,” he said to himself. “A great pansy of a coward…”

“Harry Potter?”

Harry jumped and took out his wand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Harry squinted, and then his eyes widened when he recognized the person. “Sanguini? What’re you doing here?”

“I assure you, I’m not one of those that are searching for you; I’m here on my own accord.”

“They’re searching for me, huh? It figures,” Harry snorted.

“Do not think so little of them. They care about you.”

Harry nodded, completely understanding, but his monster growled, not wanting any emotions to cloud his judgment.

“Have you killed yet?” Sanguini suddenly asked.

Harry shivered, but he kept staring at Sanguini stoically. “Define ‘killed’,” he said.

Sanguini raised an eyebrow. “Who died?”

Harry raised his chin defiantly. “He took his own wooden stake into his chest by the end of our fight. It wasn’t my fault he was being stupid.”

“Who was it?” Sanguini asked again.

“Betelgeuse,” said Harry stonily, shrugging. “He deserved it, too. The idiot was trying to kill me.”

“I see—Prince Vlad should be told about it, otherwise they’ll wonder where Betelgeuse took off to. There had been talk that he would defect, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did go over to the Dark Lord’s side.”

“Fine, you go tell him. I’m not going back there.”

“Why not?”

Harry’s lips parted a millimeter, as if he were about to speak, but then he pursed them together, his eyes narrowed.

Finally, he said, “I will not, because I haven’t had my fill of blood yet, and they will stop me from biting anyone.”

“If you need blood, I’m sure one of your Blood Dolls could help…”

“I don’t need them!” Harry sneered. “They have each other—they don’t want me—I don’t need their blood anymore…”

“Harry, calm yourself. You’re becoming unhinged.”

“Unhinged! Yeah, that’s what they all think of me now, isn’t it? Or better yet, they’ve been thinking that for years now but haven’t had the guts to tell me!”

Sanguini was smart enough not to say another word about Ron or Hermione. He shut his eyes and sighed in a tired way, but Harry could tell that he was far from tired right now.

“I know about Worple.”

No emotion showed on Harry’s face when Sanguini said this.

“The bastard deserved it.”

Sanguini’s eyebrows rose. “What? Why?”

“Because,” snarled Harry. “He was too… he was stupid, and he didn’t understand that I didn’t want to do a fucking biography and he never realized that I don’t like being famous! Well, he can rot in Hell for all I care.”

“Harry, this is not you talking; it’s your monster. When you were poisoned by Wor—by the soulless vampire, it fed your monster and made your human side starve. Bit by bit you’re becoming a soulless one, and if you don’t go to Castle Dracula now and let Prince Vlad feed you some of his blood, you may end up just like Worple.”

The thought of having more of Vlad’s blood was very tempting to Harry, but something inside him told him that it was a mistake to do it. He wasn’t sure why, just that the thought of going to Castle Dracula scared him. It was ridiculous, really, because the castle never frightened him before.

Harry shook his head. “No. No, I can’t go back…”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Harry… you need help…”

“I don’t need help!” Harry suddenly snapped, fangs growing. “I don’t need anyone’s help!”

Before Sanguini could do anything, Harry transformed into a wolf and ran. Sanguini wanted to take off after him, but he deemed that it was more important that he tell Prince Vlad of what he had learned.

.-.

Vega was curled into a ball and was rocking back in forth in a dusty corner. He scratched at himself, mumbling nonsense, and drops of sweat slowly slid down his face.

“Vega?” gasped Patrick Mizar. “My God, what is wrong with you?”

“Need… need… must have… need…” Vega whimpered, rocking back and forth.

“What do you need?” Patrick asked gently, kneeling down next to his old comrade. “What is it?”

“Need!” Vega said louder, panting and shivering. “I need… P-Proudfoot!” After saying the werewolf’s name aloud, Vega whined and pulled at his hair as if to punish himself. “Noooo… no, I don’t need… YES, yes I do! I need him!”

Patrick wasn’t a very sympathetic type, nor the type to comfort anyone when they were down, but the sight before him, and the understanding of why, made his chest sting. At first, he just placed a hand softly onto Vega’s arm, but then as if it had a mind of its own, it slipped around Vega’s shoulders and he pulled Vega to him. Vega shivered and sobbed shamelessly into Patrick’s neck. Slightly alarmed, Patrick patted Vega haltingly on his back.

“But aren’t you only half bonded to him?” Patrick asked kindly, wishing he had Nicholas’s calming powers.

“Yes…” Vega mumbled against his neck. “That is why I need him so badly… I’m going through all the stages that had been rumored by our ancestors! There hadn’t been any kind of bonds like this in centuries!”

“Maybe it’s because we’ve been forgetting ourselves,” offered Patrick gently. “Maybe in all the wars and fighting and survival, we’ve forgotten our true human sides and have relied a bit too much on our monsters.”

Vega’s sobbing slowed down. Patrick continued to pat him on the back and hold him to his chest in a nice manner, yet not in a way he hoped would seem he was interested.

When Vega finally settled down, Patrick pulled him away to look at him. Vega’s eyes were red and puffy with giant, wet streaks down his cheeks. He looked horrible, and Patrick hoped that this would never happen to him.

“All right now?” he asked softly. “Would you like to see Prince Vlad? Or maybe you’d like to see Nicholas? He could help you to calm down…”

“Nicholas?” Vega said very softly, and then in a stronger voice he said, “Yeah, I should…”

Patrick helped Vega to his feet and together they made their way to the sitting room. He thought he seen Nicholas and a few other Daywalkers in there a few minutes ago. If he heard correctly, they were planning another hunting party to go search for Harry.

As they entered, Patrick quickly noted who was all there. A couple elders were present: Jonathan Stoker and Edward Von Wolf, and a few other Daywalkers that he knew: Fornax Xavier, Ethan Daniels, Michael Barnard, Leah Corona, William Price, and Nicholas Chambers. It was not surprising to see Proudfoot sitting by Nicholas.

Everyone’s heads turned when they heard them enter. Patrick beckoned Nicholas to them, but as Nicholas stood, Proudfoot grasped his hand and stopped him. Nicholas looked down, confused; Proudfoot was shaking his head.

“Don’t…” he whispered.

“It’s all right…” Nicholas said in a soothing voice, running his fingers through Proudfoot’s fringe. “My Calming Demeanor is needed…”

Before he could continue his sentence, Vega tore Nicholas away from Proudfoot roughly and hit him dead on the nose.

Those that had been sitting stood up, and they all gaped at what they’d just witnessed. Nothing like this had ever happened before in many years; Daywalker didn’t fight with Daywalker. It wasn’t proper.

“What is the meaning of this, Vega?” Edward Von Wolf boomed. He was the only other Daywalker, besides Vlad, that was over a hundred years old, and he commanded a lot of respect in the Order of the Dragon.

Proudfoot was on his feet in a flash and pulled Nicholas to him, but Nicholas gently shook him off and stood his ground.

“He’s challenging me,” said Nicholas expressionlessly.

Vega nodded to show that Nicholas was right and narrowed his eyes dangerously at him.

“What? Why?” Proudfoot said, looking ready to punch anyone’s lights out if they so much as touched a hair on Nicholas’s body.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Vega, spit flying and looking quite mad.

“The Bond,” said Nicholas.

“No,” groaned Proudfoot. “I don’t want anyone else bonded to me!”

Vega jerked back as if he were slapped, his face crumbling, and then his eyes shone with determination. Nicholas knew that look, so he went for his wand, but was tackled to the floor before he could announce a spell.

It was rare that those Daywalkers who knew magic relied on such means to fight. Usually, a Daywalker would only use their bodies and minds to fight. The Daywalkers were trained in the ways of how to fight soulless vampires with stakes, crosses, and other physical means. Sometimes, if there was no other way, they’d use their wands to cast a light spell over all, but really bright light also bothered their own bodies. It didn’t kill them or make them ill, but it did drain a lot of energy, so that was why they usually fought without magic.

Luckily, neither of them was wearing any wooden stakes attached to their wrists underneath their sleeves so they couldn’t kill each other. Vega sat on Nicholas’s chest and was hitting him in the face over and over. Proudfoot kept shouting at them to knock it off, but by law Vega had every right to fight Nicholas.

Nicholas’s Calming Demeanor wasn’t working on the deranged Daywalker, so he freed one of his arms that had been trapped underneath one of Vega’s legs, and thrust it upward into Vega’s breadbasket. Vega keeled over and it was just the distraction that he needed to push Vega off him. When Nicholas picked up his wand, he decided to play fair and had Patrick hold onto it for him.

“Come on, Vega,” goaded Nicholas. “You wanted this fight, so get up and fight, or admit defeat.”

“Never!” Vega shrieked, staring up at Nicholas with madness in his eyes. “I will complete my Bond with Proudfoot, and you will not stop me!”

Proudfoot was standing off to the side with the rest of the onlookers, feeling helpless. He didn’t like what was happening in front of him, but he also knew that he couldn’t stop it no matter how much he screamed. Tears were slowly sliding down his face as the thought of losing Nicholas entered his mind. The two possessive Daywalkers might end up killing each other, and it was hurting Proudfoot more than he ever thought possible.

Nicholas was caught off guard for a second when he noticed Proudfoot crying, but it was enough for Vega to get in another attack. Unlike before, however, Nicholas was able to counterattack now that he knew what he was up against, and why he was fighting. He would have gladly talked things out with Vega, but Vega’s mind was withdrawing from not being with Proudfoot, so he wasn’t thinking straight. Vega was known for having a rather sharp mind, so the effects of not having his bond mate were a staggering display.

The fight was becoming more and more brutal. Every hit to each other was harder and faster, and the harder the blows the more blood was escaping from each other. Blood loss was not a good thing, especially during a fight.

Nicholas finally hit Vega hard enough that he stayed down. He waited to see if he would get back up, but after three minutes had passed, there was no sign of Vega getting up again. Everyone stayed silent, as if any bit of sound would alert Vega. Nicholas turned around to address them all, but then Vega sprang from the floor and shot toward Proudfoot.

“You’re mine!” Vega screamed, hand stretched out to grab Proudfoot.

Proudfoot was so shocked and afraid, he didn’t move, but right before Vega could lay a hand on Proudfoot, Nicholas charged in and grabbed Vega by the hair. He pulled Vega back away from Proudfoot and tilted his head back, fangs extended in fury.

“You’re not to lay a finger on my soulmate!” Nicholas snarled.

Everyone gasped. It wasn’t like Nicholas to lose that much control, nor was it like any Daywalker to ever say aloud that a werewolf was his soulmate, even if it were true.

Both Nicholas and Vega glared at each other, fangs out, and it looked to be a standstill, but then Nicholas did what no other Daywalker (to date) had done before: he sunk his fangs into another Daywalker.

Sires were known to pierce their Fledgling’s skin and get a taste of their blood while they were getting intimate; that was no big deal. But a Daywalker biting another Daywalker in anger was a very rare thing to behold. Even if two Daywalkers disagree on things, they often settled them in ways where there would be no biting involved—much less any fighting. Today was a day everyone was going to remember.

“Nicholas, please stop,” begged Proudfoot. “Please!”

“Proudfoot is right,” said Edward. “It’s over and done with now… you’re the victor, Nicholas.”

He knew that, but his mind was crying out for Vega’s blood. He wanted to keep biting and sucking until Vega was nothing but an empty shell, but a gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back from his lunacy.

“Please, Nicholas?” Proudfoot said, squeezing Nicholas’s shoulder. “It’s over. You have me—all to yourself… now and forever.”

Vega fell to the floor with a loud THUMP as Nicholas released him to embrace Proudfoot.

The other Daywalkers watched mutely as werewolf and vampire held each other lovingly, breaking one of the better-known rules that had been laid hundreds of years ago.

.-.

About two hours after the fight between Nicholas and Vega, Lilith and Ruby arrived at the front gates of Castle Dracula. They had Apparated into the forest about a mile away from the Castle and walked the rest of the way. Ruby told Lilith that she heard that there were anti-apparition spells around the castle; therefore, they had to be careful where they ended up.

Just like Daywalkers, most werewolves were witches or wizards, because of the knowledge of them and them being more likely to get bit by one, but there were a handful that were non-magic users. Lilith had even heard of another type of vampire that sometimes roamed the Black Forest, but it was just a rumor as far as she knew. If there were such a vampire, she should have seen it by now. Ruby, however, believed there still could be another kind of vampire out there; it could happen, she once said. One never knew about such things until it happened to you.

Lilith used the giant knockers on the double doors to the castle. It was odd that no one was outside to greet her, like they usually did. She hadn’t been here in years, though, so things could have changed. Ruby stood by her side bravely.

The doors finally opened, slowly, creaking in that eerie way that would make a Muggle jump out of their skin and leave their skeletons shaking behind. Lilith took a deep breath and peered inside. She couldn’t see anything, so she raised her wand to help light her way, but there was a sudden wand against her throat before she could announce the spell.

“Good evening, Lilith,” said a familiar voice. “I’d advise you put your wand down.”

Without looking, she quipped, “I merely wanted to use a Lumos to light my way.”

“We’ll see…”

Lilith turned to confront the moronic vampire, as did Ruby with her own wand out.

“Donald Moon,” said Lilith, the corner of her mouth jerking somewhat. “It’s been a while.”

“You too, Lilith, chief of the Phoenix Clan.” He put his wand away, as did Lilith. Because Lilith and her band of werewolves were on the Order of the Phoenix’s side of the war, her clan had been given the name ‘Phoenix’, but Lilith never dubbed it to be the actual name of her pack. She decided on giving it a more simple name that was to the point and easy to remember.

“I don’t like that name, so I just call my pack My Clan.”

“My Clan?” said Moon, fighting the urge to smirk.

“Yes,” said Ruby. “You know: Lilith’s Clan? Sounds better than the Phoenix Clan.”

“Right,” said Moon, finally allowing himself to smirk. “So, what’re you doing here, besides looking for a fight?”

“I’m not looking for a fight,” said Lilith. “I’m here because Prince Vlad asked me to come.”

“Seriously? You’re not pulling my leg?”

Lilith handed him the letter, and Moon read it thoroughly. He nodded once he deemed it genuine, and then opened the door the rest of the way for them to enter.

“Follow me,” said Moon. Lilith raised an eyebrow at Ruby, and Ruby nodded to show that she thought they should trust him, and together they followed the elder inside Castle Dracula.

Once they got to the room where the fight between Vega and Nicholas took place, she raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse the mess,” said Moon as he calmly stepped over an over-turned chair. Ruby raised both eyebrows at Lilith. She stared back, the question on the tip of her tongue too, but she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know. She glanced around the room, noting that it didn’t look like there had been a struggle, but an actual fight.

“What happened?” Ruby dared to ask.

“Daywalker business,” said Moon sharply, but then he stopped and turned abruptly. “Oh, that’s right . . . Proudfoot is a part of your clan, isn’t he?”

“Proudfoot is here? I’ve been wondering where he’s got to.”

“I will explain what happened once your business with our master is done.”

Lilith thought that was appropriate as well, so she and Ruby followed Moon to the throne room. Moon knocked a few times, and then opened the door enough to let his head through.

“Master? Lilith and Ruby are here to see you.”

“Let them in,” Prince Vlad boomed.

Moon obeyed, and Lilith and Ruby slowly walked in. They weren’t necessarily scared, but the way Vlad looked, sitting there looking so regal and serious, it made Lilith’s heart pound in her chest.

“Prince Vlad…”

“Ah, Lilith,” said Vlad kindly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Showing respect, Lilith went down on one knee. Ruby did the same, her eyes never wavering from the head of vampires.

“You wish for my help?” said Lilith.

“Yes,” said Vlad. He stood elegantly, and Lilith and Ruby couldn’t help backing away slightly by his presence. Carefully, Vlad descended the dais and then stopped in front of them. “You may rise,” he said. “I’m humbled that the leader of werewolves is bowing before me, although it is not necessary. We’re both leaders, after all.”

Lilith stood. “Of course, sir.”

“You may rise too, Ruby.”

“Thank you,” said Ruby, getting to her feet.

“Let us cut to the chase,” said Vlad immediately. He swept across the floor just as elegantly as he had stood, his cloak bellowing behind him. They merely watched, not sure if they should come forward.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want your clan and mine to join forces in this great war, and not just because of Harry Potter, and not just because of Proudfoot.” He turned to face them. “I am not happy with Lord Voldemort. I do not like the way he’s abusing his power and killing people just for the sake that he can. It is not right.”

“I agree,” said Lilith. “But what can we do to help?”

“The more people to rally on Potter’s side of the battle, the less Voldemort will have.”

Lilith’s eyes twinkled. “I see. What of the other werewolf clan, Greyback’s? What shall we do about them? I heard rumors that they were closing in on Hogwarts. Shouldn’t we do something about it?”

“Do you think we should?” Vlad asked her sincerely.

Lilith bit her lower lip. “Yes… I think so. Yes, I think we should do something.”

“And we will,” said Vlad. “But first we must help Harry Potter. We must help him to achieve a greatness no other had done before. He must be trained, taught, and above all else, we must cure him of the poison the soulless one had given him. If he is not cured soon, all else will fail.”

Lilith and Ruby exchanged glances, and then Lilith bowed slightly, eyes never leaving Prince Vlad’s.

“I understand, sir, and I accept your offer to join forces with you.”

TBC

AN:
I will answer this question here, and possibly at the end of the next chapter too, in case anyone doesn't see this:

wickedwiccanofthemiddwest asked:
"If a soulmate is someone that smells really good to a vampire and is the perfect blood doll how can a werewolf be a mate to a vampire considering there blood tastes horrific to them?"

My answer:
Vampire and Werewolf bonding: (In which I hope that I’m explaining this well enough, because I just got back from my math class)

Nicholas Chambers has a Calming Demeanor. Because of this, he is able to keep most around him calm; therefore, most werewolves do not get angry enough to hurt him.
Proudfoot is a werewolf, but not an alpha. His blood may taste terrible to vampires, but his smell, sweat, Scent (and looks), whatever, attracted Nicholas. Not only that, but the souls in which Nicholas and Proudfoot have/possess made the connection, not the taste or smell of blood.
It wasn’t blood that bonded them: it was saliva and semen.
Notice how I didn't have Nicholas comment about Proudfoot's blood and/or how it smelled.

Also note that Patrick said: “Maybe in all the wars and fighting and survival, we’ve forgotten our true human sides and have relied a bit too much on our monsters.”

I hope that explains things. If not, I will look through my other chapters and see if I can do anything to make it more clear.

I may or may not post the next part on Friday, simply because of the lack of Harry or Draco in this part (Very sorry, but I wanted a few things astablished). Those of you who have stuck with me so far, even though I have a few OCs jumping in the game, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! Very soon there will be some action involving Harry that I think you’ll like…. At least I hope so!