[Takes place the day after Muggle Studies]
So George has injured himself! How did that happen?
Oh, yes, yes, George knows how it happened, he got a little careless with his gun, but anyone could do that. And it's not like he's completely stupid; he's gone to the hospital wing
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By the time George got back to the Muggle Studies class, it was already over, and Jasper was busy helping the house-elves clean up-only because Vladimir had excused himself to attend to something, so he couldn't tell Jasper to sit back down and leave it to the house-elves. He was supposed to be an assistant, after all, and the most he'd ever done prior to this was chat with Vladimir every so often, which was something he'd have been happy to do even without the position. He simply felt a bit useless. At the same time, he was very pleased Vladimir hadn't ever treated him like a servant; his days of being someone's attack dog were long over, and if he happened to be a bit protective of the Baron, it was merely a product of their unusual friendship.
Given that Vladimir had taken to enjoying the company of demons of dubious character, it certainly couldn't hurt to have someone watching out for him. His acquaintances and bedmates at Hogwarts were likely unaware of how little stood between them and a very messy, very permanent end if the Baron ever asked it of Jasper. Of course, the vampire was unaware of it himself, since he hadn't yet realised he might consider going to such lengths for the Baron.
Jasper's back was to George as he swept the floor, but he'd heard the man come in, and so called out, "Class is over. Professor Harkonnen is busy at the moment, but if you'd like to..." That was when the smell reached him, that overwhelming, irresistible scent of blood from earlier, and he slowly turned to face George, staring at him in a way that would have made a smarter man haul ass out of there. This was not a man looking at George, but a half-starved predator. "The Professor will return shortly. Please, have a seat," he finished in a slightly hoarse voice, gesturing toward the chairs as he set aside his broom.
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"Oh, splendid." George sat down and smiled at Jasper. "I did want to shoot those guns, but I had to tend to my foot. And I do want to talk to the professor, we didn't have these guns in my time, you know. A shame. They probably would have prevented the second World War from happening."
Or not, but it's George.
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But, Vladimir had signed up as a teacher, and, he supposed that handling whatever it was George wanted was part of the job- he only hoped this wasn't going to be pressing action against the department for causing him to shoot himself in the foot or something. "So what can I do for you? And, how is your foot today?" He smiled at George as well, being in relatively good spirits and still vaguely amused by that whole incident, but, inwardly a bit dismayed that anyone in uniform could mange to injure themselves in such a fashion.
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Speak of the devil. The Baron's return offered him a little relief, which was unfortunately not a very good thing at the moment. No longer feeling quite himself, Jasper slowly pushed the door shut, and moved to take the chair opposite George, watching him with keen interest. "I'm Jasper, by the way," he said with another smile, this one somehow a little less pleasant than the previous.
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Not that George's country was any less guilty of that. See Roundheads vs. Cavaliers.
"I came here cause I was so fascinated by those guns and if possible I did want to try shooting one."
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Vladimir shook the proferred hand, and wondered how this man could know what a gun was, yet didn't seem to know that you shouldn't point the dangerous end at one's own body? He'd presumed it was the first thing anyone knew about a gun, and, hadn't even thought to mention it in class as it was so painfully obvious. He had to admit the man had spirit though, if he was actually wanting to try the guns again so soon after the incident, and supposed he could indulge him.
"I think that could be arranged. But, you'll want to remember to aim the gun well away from yourself, or either of us. You're supposed to aim it at enemies, ideally, but, as I don't have any of those on hand just now, you'll have to use the targets." He fished the key to the warded closet where he was storing his little arsenal from his robe, and floated over to procure a couple of the weapons. In passing Jasper, he gave him a somewhat apologetic smile- he hadn't expected him to have to deal with any students while he'd been away for a few minutes, let alone one who came seeking a make-up lesson.
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"Mm. You know the saying. Or perhaps you don't. War doesn't determine who's right, only who's left." Which was probably an odd thing coming from him, considering he'd lied about his age in order to enlist all those years ago. Everything had seemed so much simpler then, being Major Whitlock, the good soldier, the born leader... the human boy. He was none of those things now, as was painfully apparent as he lowered his gaze to George's bandaged, bleeding foot, his eyes glazing over slightly as he began imagining how easy it would be to just-a little taste...
He blinked and suddenly sat straighter, coming back to himself somewhat as Vladimir passed him. But the unintended promise of blood had already aroused his bloodlust, bringing with it that familiar, burning ache that would only ever be sated in one way, and one way only. Animal blood was such a poor substitute. He briefly glanced toward Vladimir, then back to George, unable to really look away from him. Things were indeed headed toward disaster.
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Declaring that Jasper needed mittens didn't really up Vladimir's confidence in George's perception, but, he supposed that maybe, just maybe, trenches and the guns of the man's era didn't mix, so that he had some sort of excuse. He of course flicked on his personal shield before handing George the unloaded gun and some ammunition. "I believe it's best to start again from the beginning, as proper loading procedure's quite important. But mainly, what you want to remember, is to keep this part well away from you or anyone that you don't want to shoot." He went about demonstrating exactly how to load the rifle again, deliberately slowing down the procedure some so that George couldn't possibly be confused, while occasionally glancing over at Jasper. Had the vampire decided to get up and leave, he wouldn't have been offended, and hoped that his expression said something of the sort.
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Technically Jasper was already really unprettified, what with being literally covered in scars that were simply invisible to weak human eyesight. Of course, Vladimir was already aware of this, and for whatever strange reason hadn't been put off by it.
Jasper watched Vladimir's demonstration, trying not to watch George, but it was all for naught-even Vladimir's pointed looks were failing to make any real sense to the vampire. Things became very disjointed to him then. One moment he was in the chair, nearly crushing the armrests with how tightly he was gripping them, and the next, he was on the floor, unthinkingly reaching for the bloody bandages. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound no human vocal cords would be capable of making, and even then he struggled against his instincts. He sort of nuzzled the bandages at first before picking them off, exposing the wound beneath, and then nuzzled that, too, smearing George's blood across his face. Automatically he began licking. Then sucking-not even having to use his teeth yet, since George's blood was already flowing quite nicely. By that point it was no longer Jasper, but merely a vampire; a junkie getting his first hit in-it had been far too long...
Dimly there was the thought of how devastated he would be later, how heartbroken his dear Alice would be, how disappointed his entirely family would be in him; perhaps even Vladimir would be disappointed as well, he'd always had so much misplaced faith in Jasper. They all had. Maybe they would only be surprised that it had taken him this long to succumb-he'd always been the weak one, the one most likely to fuck up and force them all to move again, time after time. After a moment even these thoughts were gone, replaced by his all-consuming hunger. If George attempted to pull away, he might likely end up minus a foot. The pain and paralysis caused by the vampiric venom wouldn't hit for another few minutes.
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"And you're getting blood all over you, too. Here," George rummaged in his pocket for a handkerchief.
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He supposed that George getting drained of his blood on the floor of his classroom might be rather problematic, but, he was far too intrigued by what would come next to actually do anything about it. He'd thought many times about what it would be like to watch Jasper kill someone, and, being the brutal overlord that he was, George seemed a perfectly good someone. It wasn't as if he actually knew him. He might have been rather 'cute' if he wasn't so daft, but, he unfortunately fell into the category of 'easily expendable' in Vladimir's mind. That was a necessary category to have in his line of work, and, a great deal of people fell into it, since most were easily replaced. And as Vladimir adored Jasper, he couldn't bring himself to deny him his pleasure, if that was what he wanted. Especially if the prey seemed to be inviting it- Jasper's behavior couldn't be considered normal by any human standard, but George wasn't even trying to get away. He was offering him a damn handkerchief.
He didn't consider shooting Jasper with the loaded weapon he was holding, despite the fact that it wouldn't be lethal. He'd grown weirdly fond of the vampire, and his affection for him was based only partly upon physical attraction- there was a distinctly paternal element to his feelings for him, just as there was with his adopted nephew Feyd. And he wouldn't have considered shooting Feyd just for butchering someone. He supposed George couldn't actually die anyway, since it was in the school, and, he'd probably just have a very unpleasant, but possibly educational experience. The only thought that caused him to do anything at all was wondering if this incident would upset Jasper, due to him perceiving it as a breach of his self-control. Vladimir supposed it technically was, but, everyone deserved an indulgence now and again. He drifted closer to the bizarre scene, remarking, "And you're getting a great deal of blood on the carpeting too. I'm not entirely sure this is what you want to do, Jasper." Another very pointed look at the vampire accompanied the words.
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They were speaking to him, but he couldn't understand a phoneme of it; it was noise. One was waving something at him, the other was looking at him in a way that, dimly, he thought should have maybe mattered to him, but it didn't. Everything was strangely meaningless, indecipherable, but for the sweet blood he couldn't get enough of. The only response from the vampire was another feral snarl, and he did bite then, right through bone, and blindly reached to get hold of George's leg, fully intending to rip it off. He wanted more blood.
Glorfindel had come by planning to apologise in person to the Baron for missing his class, but the sight that greeted him as he pushed open the door obviously called for immediate action. He quickly moved in and used the hilt of his sword to give Jasper a sharp rap upside the head, with enough force that, had Jasper been human, he would have at least been knocked aside. It had no effect on the vampire but to piss him off, and he released George's now profusely bleeding and broken foot to turn on the Elf Lord.
In a movement too quick for human sight to follow, Jasper lunged, missing by a hair's breadth as Glorfindel sidestepped, and the Elf again knocked him upside the head with his sword hilt, almost playfully. This strange dance continued for several moments, until Jasper finally got lucky. Glorfindel was suddenly pinned against a wall by a hand around his throat, which held him several feet off the ground, with no apparent effort from the vampire. A spider web of cracks in the wall radiated out from behind Glorfindel, caused by the force of impact. This was a hint of the vampire's strength.
There was only one thought in his mind now: he would kill all three of them. He glanced back over his shoulder with another inhuman growl, as though daring George and Vladimir to move. His empathic influencing abilities were no longer controlled, though he wasn't projecting any discernible emotion on the two men and Elf; they would merely find their own emotions, whether good or bad, inexplicably amplified.
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"What is happen-" He let out an anguished cry as the venom coursed through his veins and he seized up.
The handkerchief fell to the ground, forgotten.
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He was pretty damn sure that he probably should do something, but, just what was escaping him at the moment. He was definitely enjoying the sight, but, the shreds of common sense remaining despite the empathic influence kept nagging at him, and insisting that Jasper didn't really want to be scattering bits of George all over the classroom. The gun didn't seem a very useful option at all, since his choices were to shoot the vampire, which would be ineffectual, or to shoot George, who wouldn't be put out his misery due to the magic at Hogwarts. And so, when Glorfindel showed up, he was just hovering there- he'd barely noticed his arrival, but once he did, he managed to shout a warning at the Elf-Lord. However, Glorfindel had already jumped into action.
And now, the scene was even sexier. The unnaturally beautiful pair was riveting to watch, and the action showed off both Jasper's abilities and the Elf-Lord's so very well. But, he also knew this was even more of a Very Bad Situation, in his opinion. George, to the best of his knowledge, was a commoner. Glorfindel, however, was both a gorgeous Elf, and a noble. Jasper was bound to feel awful enough already about maiming George, and, surely adding a noble to that list would be even more miserable. And it was this that finally broke Vladimir from his strangely aroused trance, his usually keen mind working normally once more. All of Jasper's motions had been exceptionally fast. Which was exactly what his shield was designed to block- he knew that Jasper had seen the shield before in Muggle Studies, but, he had to trust that in his feral state, the vampire wouldn't realize that it was the slow blade that pierces the shield.
As Jasper slammed the Elf-Lord into the wall, he drifted up behind him, his suspensors allowing him to move much faster than a man of his size should be able to, and grabbed Jasper by the shoulder, with the intent to attract his attention away from his current prey. He presumed that in his crazed condition, Jasper would turn on him, allowing Glorfindel a chance to get away while he let Jasper beat against his shield. As he grabbed him, he bellowed, "What the hell are you doing, Jasper? That's Lord Glorfindel!" And then braced himself for Jasper's inevitable assault, hoping that the plan would work.
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The distraction Vladimir provided was exactly what Glorfindel needed. He pressed his hands to Jasper's temples, murmuring an Elvish phrase even as he was being suffocated, then kicked him away. The vampire abruptly released him, stumbling backwards and collapsing to the floor, unconscious for the first time in over a century and a half. The Elf Lord landed rather more gracefully, then knelt on Jasper's chest and touched his temples again, just to make sure he hadn't inadvertently killed him. Well, he wasn't alive, but he wasn't dead, either. Glorfindel glanced up at the Baron and George, quirking an eyebrow, naturally looking just as composed as he had prior to the scuffle, despite likely having a few injuries himself now.
"Well then. Perhaps you ought to keep your pet on a leash," he suggested mildly, not even sounding inconvenienced. He sheathed his sword and took Jasper by the chin, tilting his head from side to side. Glorfindel could of course see the bite mark scars, but didn't know what to make of them. He moved off of Jasper and went to kneel by George, pressing a hand to his mangled foot and doing what he could to slow the bleeding and ease the pain. There was something very peculiar about the wound, something which he'd expect from a snake bite. Whatever it was, he was already too late to help the Man. He quickly re-bandaged George's foot, looking dismayed, and said, "He has been thoroughly poisoned. I've never seen the likes of it before, and it is beyond my ability to draw out or heal." He gathered George into his arms, easily able to support the Man's full weight as he stood up.
He looked at the Baron, nodding toward Jasper. "I'll be back to check on that one, and can assist you with getting him into bed." Bow chicka wow wow "He may be out for quite a while; I'm afraid I don't know how potent Elvish magic is to one of his... kind."
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