FIC: Inevitable 44: Blood Debt

[mhalachaiswords]

Inevitable Forty-Four: Blood Debt
by Mhalachai
Note: A total of 9,706 words. What do you think of that, huh? Enjoy! (And yes, this is the Christoff chapter)

~~~~~~~

"What do you think?"

Harry turned around from where he'd been staring out the shop's window at the bustling London street, and glanced at Jason. The werewolf held up a blue shirt up to his chest for Harry's approval. Harry raised his eyebrows. "I think it's almost the same as the one you tried on four minutes ago," he pointed out. "And the one before that. Are you going to be doing this all day?"

Jason put the shirt back on the rack, then took Harry's arm and pulled him out of the chic clothing shop. "Will you lighten up?" Jason demanded as they walked along the street in the crisp late-summer morning. The air was exceptionally clear for London, and the sun shone upon them as they strode along the sidewalk. "We've got five hours until we need to be back to Christoff's place."

Harry pushed his hair back from his face. "I don't like that we just left Anita there."

"She's awake, well armed, and waiting for Requiem to wake up," Jason said patiently. "Remember the part where she told us to go out and have fun?"

"I remember the part where she told us to get the fuck out of her face." Harry shook his head at the memory. Anita had been oddly quiet and subdued on the twelve-hour plane ride to London, then in the car Christoff had sent to bring them to his house, an estate on the outskirts of London. It was only after they'd been shown their rooms by one of Christoff's wererats, and Jason started bouncing around, that Anita had cracked and shouted at the boys to leave her alone.

Jason slapped Harry's back as they crossed the street to a paved square. "That was Anita's sparkling personality reasserting herself after the plane trip." He pointed at a restaurant a few shops down. "Come on, it's almost lunchtime."

"It isn't even eleven yet," Harry said, but he let himself be dragged toward the restaurant. "And I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are," Jason contradicted. "You didn't have any breakfast, and the last thing you ate was that horrible meal on the plane. You may not be a--" Jason checked his words as they entered the restaurant and a smiling girl approached them. "Like me, but you need to eat to feel better."

"For the two of you, then?" the girl asked. "Right this way."

She led Harry and Jason to a table next to the windows, where they could watch the people passing outside. Jason flashed her a huge smile, and she almost melted as she stammered out the daily specials, then escaped back to her station.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked in a low voice once they were alone.

"What was what?" Jason asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

Harry leaned forward over the table. "That thing with the woman up front."

Jason rolled his eyes. "It's called flirting, Harry. It's a verb. You know, as in to flirt? Smile at the pretty girls and have them smile back at you, and you know that you've still got it."

"Got what?" Harry pulled his glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He hadn't slept in a whole day, since before he left St. Louis, but he was too worried to be able to rest.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jason asked.

"Yeah." Harry shoved his glasses back on, even though he really didn't need them, not anymore. They only made things a little less blurry. It has to be the werewolf, Harry thought. But why this, and not the other stuff? Why didn't I shift, but parts of me still changed?

The waiter came, and Jason ordered for the two of them. Harry stared out the window at the mass of English humanity, rushing about the square, with cabs and bicycles and the occasional skateboard. So many muggles, Harry mused. All with their lives, that don't involve vampires or werewolves or magic.

Sort of the opposite of his summer. As the waiter came back with tea, Harry thought about his goodbyes at the St. Louis airport. Nathaniel and Micah and Richard had all gone to help Anita and Jason with the luggage and Requiem's coffin, bound up tightly for an international flight. Nathaniel had spent most of the time in the waiting lounge rubbing Anita's back, listening to her nervous chattering. Micah had taken Nathaniel's place to let the young man say goodbye to Harry.

Harry hadn't really thought about how much time he'd spent with Nathaniel over the summer, until the moment when Nathaniel was standing in front of him, trying to figure out how to say goodbye. Harry had spent more time with Nathaniel than with Jason, or even Anita. Feeling as if he needed to say something profound, but suddenly tongue-tied, Harry foundered.

In the end, Nathaniel had taken the initiative, giving Harry a hug in the middle of the lounge. "Come back and see us sometime," was all Nathaniel said.

Harry had wanted to tell Nathaniel that he'd make sure Anita came home safely, and that he'd miss Nathaniel, but he held his tongue and just wished Nathaniel well. Nathaniel knew he'd protect Anita. Perhaps more than any of the others.

Saying farewell to Micah hadn't been as easy as Harry had supposed, either. The Nimir-Raj had told Harry that it was good to have had him at the house during the summer, and Harry knew he really meant it. He'd shaken Harry's hand, just like Harry was an alpha or an adult, like Micah. It made Harry feel about five years older.

Richard had spent most of the time in the waiting lounge talking to Jason, out of Harry's earshot. The Ulfric had shook Harry's hand just before the trio had to head through customs. Later on the plane, when Harry asked Jason, what the lecture was about, Jason shook his head and said Richard was telling him how to suck eggs. Harry left that one alone.

Muggle customs had been an interesting experience. When he came to America with the Dursleys, the customs officials hadn't paid too much attention to Harry's meagre belongings, focusing mostly the electronics in Dudley's knapsack.

Travelling with Anita was very different. To carry a gun onto the plane and into England, she'd had to show her paperwork, her Federal Marshal's badge, all her bullets, and go through the metal detector four times. Since Harry and Jason were with her, they were subject to the same close scrutiny, including their luggage. Harry had needed to do some quick thinking, and explained his defence against the dark arts book as a fictional handbook to a fantasy game. Much to Harry's relief, the customs guard running a metal detector over his suitcase hadn't opened his photo album to see the pictures moving about.

The oddest thing was that the customs people treated Harry the same as Jason, like someone who might be important. They knew he was only seventeen, they'd seen his passport, but it didn't seem to matter. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

The flight attendants were the same way. One had even asked him if he wanted some wine with his lunch, and he'd had to explain, slightly embarrassed, that he wasn't old enough to drink. Jason had thought the entire experience was hilarious. Anita, seated next to Jason in the first-class seats, was definitely unamused.

Harry blinked, letting his eyes follow an pair of old ladies across the square. They were slow, and easy to track, and Harry wasn't sure why he kept watching them. The smell of food in the restaurant was beginning to smell appetizing, and his stomach rumbled.

The meals on the plane were excellent, no matter what Jason said. Harry had thought the entire plane ride was great. He'd had the window seat, and watched as the plane took off, as St. Louis grew smaller and smaller as they rose into the clouds. The feeling of movement, whipping so fast through the sky, was wonderful, almost like flying on his broom. They'd only gone through a bit of turbulence, but Harry didn't have the chance to enjoy it properly. Anita had gone sheet-white, gripping Jason's hand so hard that she'd bruised him. The werewolf hadn't teased her; he'd rubbed her back with his free hand, much like Nathaniel had at the airport, and talked to Anita in a low voice. Soon, she let go of Jason's hand, but she hadn't looked over at Harry for quite some time.

She didn't have anything to be ashamed of, Harry thought. She's not afraid of anything else. I wouldn't tease her about being afraid to fly. I don't tease Ron about being afraid of spiders.

The clatter of plates brought his attention back to the table. "How much did you order?" Harry asked, dismayed at the amount of food before him. He took a fortifying gulp of tea before deciding what to eat first.

Jason folded a shiny brochure he'd been examining and slipped it under his plate. "Enough to get us through the afternoon," he said. "Christoff's planned some kind of dinner, for midnight, but I don't know how hungry you're going to be then."

"Dinner?" Harry repeated. "I thought we were going to go have Anita-- I mean, have Anita and Christoff meet, then that was it."

Jason snorted. "Not likely. There's a whole event planned. I thought Jean-Claude told you that."

"He told me that I needed to be ready for anything."

"And you stopped listening after that?" Jason sighed. "Pass the salt, would you? You need to pay more attention to gossip. I talked to Byron, who talked to Requiem, and he said that Christoff's almost as bad as Jean-Claude when it comes to these dinner and junk. I think we start at ten tonight, in some kind of reception, then dinner's at midnight, then the main event is at one in the morning."

The thought of staying up so late was almost painful to Harry. "I have to be on the train at eleven tomorrow morning," Harry protested. "And I have need to go school shopping before that, right when all the shops open on Diagon Alley."

Jason shrugged, mouth full of sandwich. "Have a nap this afternoon," he suggested after he had swallowed.

Affronted, Harry violently speared a lettuce leaf from his salad. "I don't need a nap," he said sullenly.

"Even old men like me need to nap," Jason said. "You're not the only one who's been up for two days. I was on Anita duty on the plane, remember?. That can take a lot out of a guy."

Harry didn't feel like apologizing, so he set his attention to the task of eating all the food Jason had ordered.

The two hungry travelers made quick work of the meal. When they were finished Jason ordered an expensive coffee drink, and Harry took another cup of tea. The werewolf had been right. With food in his belly, things really did seem better.

"So, hours to go until we need to get back to Christoff's." Harry swirled the amber liquid in his cup.

"Yup." Jason grinned. "Hey, want to be tourists?"

"How do you mean?"

"You know! Do touristy stuff. Go places and see things that the locals will never do. I can't come to London for the first time in my life and only do preternatural politics. I need something to dilute the drama."

Harry glanced down at the folded brochure on the table. "Such as?" he asked pointedly.

"Well, you know," Jason said, cheeks growing red. "Someone was telling me about the British Museum."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "Oh really?"

"Shut up," Jason said. "I might be a stripper, but I'm allowed to look at things."

He and Jason might still not yet live out the night, but at least they could spend a few hours like normal people. Harry's heart lightened. "You're sure Anita will be all right?"

"Completely sure," Jason said immediately. "I'll call her to make sure, but yeah."

Going to the Museum.... Tomorrow at this time, Harry would be on the train back to Hogwarts, back to being Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, with all its surrounding danger. Today, he could be muggle Harry, showing a friend from America around town. "You've got a deal."

"Great!" Jason beamed. "Can we take that Underground thing?"

Harry rolled his eyes. This was going to be a trying day.

~*~

Harry stared at himself in the full-length mirror, with something approaching horror. "You want me to wear this?"

Jason looked up from where he was donning a similar outfit. "What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong?" Harry held his arms out. "I look like a total fake!"

Jason finished buttoning up his shirt and came over to Harry. "You do not look like a fake," he said as he removed the cufflinks that Harry had inexpertly put in, and redid the cuffs up correctly. "Compared to what I had to wear to the last shindig in St. Louis, we're dressed like monks." He turned Harry around to look him over. "Why are you complaining? You look great."

Harry looked at his reflection. Jean-Claude had provided outfits for both Harry and Jason, black suits that fit very nicely, although a little too tight on the butt for Harry's taste. The shirts were dark red silk, to match Anita's dress. Luckily, there were no ties. Harry had never worn one, but he was sure it would strangle him.

He couldn't help turning a bit to look at the back of his trousers, one more time. Jason noticed what he was doing. "I swear to God, Harry, if you ask me if those pants make your butt look big, I will shift and eat you."

Harry blushed as red as his shirt. "But what if people look?" The second the words left his mouth, he wished he'd kept quiet. Jason was going to tease him to no end, he just knew.

However, Harry was wrong. Jason helped Harry slip into the jacket, then stepped back. "The jacket makes it look okay," Jason said. "Trust me on this. You look hot. Nothing out of place."

"Good," Harry muttered. He fingered the handle of his wand, which he'd strapped to his left arm, hidden under his shirt sleeve. He could pull it out at any moment, as long as his right hand remained free.

Jason pulled on his own jacket, and spent a moment running his fingers through his short blond hair." Okay, we're all set. Let's go bother Anita."

They stepped out of their room into a long corridor. The wererat guard stationed outside their door watched them with cool eyes, as they crossed the corridor to knock on Anita's door.

There was movement within, then Requiem answered the door. He was still dressed in his usual cloak, which made Jason frown at him. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"Anita and I were finishing a few last minute things," Requiem said. "She is in the bath. I wished to wait for you to arrive before I go and prepare myself." He opened the door to let Harry and Jason into the room.

Jason let out a whistle as he walked in. "Why does Anita rank the sweet room?" he demanded, turning checking out the enormous apartment. "Harry and I got to share a place the size of my room back home."

Requiem closed the door. "You are not to sleep there," he said, not able to keep the condescension out of his voice. "You are with Anita, and you are to sleep in here. That was merely your dressing chamber."

Harry blinked. "Sleep in here? With Anita?"

Jason spared Harry a glance. "You can sleep on the ground if you want," he said. "Hey, is that chocolate?"

A flat unopened box lay on the dressing table. Jason plopped into the chair and undid the bow.

"Are those for us?" Harry asked. He tried to focus on something other than the uncomfortable squiggles in his stomach, from the thought of sleeping in the same room as Anita.

Jason plucked the note from the top of the box. "For Anita," he read. "Welcome to my city." He flipped the note over, then shrugged. "I guess it's from Christoff."

"It is," Requiem said softly.

"Are they poisoned?" Jason asked, pulling off the lid and giving the contents of the box a cautious sniff.

"They will be safe," Requiem said. "We are Christoff's guests, and he will not harm us, unless we do not hold up our end of the bargain."

"Okay," Jason said. He popped one chocolate in his mouth, and closed his eyes in appreciation. "Oh man, this is good."

A door in the wall opened, and Anita, emerged in a rush of warm, moist air. "I'm glad you're enjoying them," she said, a flush on her cheeks that Harry doubted was from the bath. "Now put them down and help me." She held out a hairbrush and a blow-dryer to Jason.

"I will leave you to prepare," Requiem said with a bow. "I will return at quarter to ten to take you to the reception."

Anita nodded at him. "We'll see you then." With another bow, Requiem departed.

Once the door clicked shut, Anita stood in the middle of the room, looking rather uncertain. Her wet curly hair tumbled down her back. Wrapped in the over-large blue robe, she looked younger than Harry.

"Come on," Jason said, putting the chocolates to the side. "We haven't got a lot of time to get your hair dry."

"Who fucking cares?" Anita said. She tossed the brush and hair-dryer onto a large couch, and wandered over to the window. "None of this feels right. Everyone's being too nice."

Jason and Harry exchanged a glance. "Requiem said everything would be fine, as long as we did our part," Jason said slowly. "Do you think this is going to go south?"

Anita shrugged, pulling back the drapes a little to look out onto the huge garden, lit with sparkling lights in the dark. "I've got this feeling that everything will be okay, which I don't like."

Harry watched Anita stare out the window, a twisting in his guts. He knew what Jean-Claude needed him to do, in case things went bad, but he suddenly had a flash of memory, of what happened when Bellatrix had confronted him and Anita in the woods, and Anita hadn't known what would happen...

"Anita, there's something I need to tell you," Harry said quickly, before he lost his nerve. Jason whipped his head around to glare a warning at Harry, but Anita had already let go of the drapes and was coming toward him.

"What about?" Anita asked, concerned. "Did something happen to you guys today? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "We're fine, really. It's just..." He took a deep breath. "Jean-Claude asked me to do something, tonight, and you need to know about it."

Anita froze in the middle of the room. Her expression changed from one of confusion to extreme suspicion. "What did Jean-Claude want you to do?" she demanded. "He didn't tell me that you needed to do anything."

Harry wasn't afraid of Anita, not really. Not even when she was glaring daggers at him liked this. "In case things go odd, he wanted to make sure things were okay."

Jason sunk back, making himself very small in the chair, as Anita took a careful step toward Harry. "Okay how?" Anita demanded.

Harry stood up straight, looking down at Anita. He opened his mouth to speak, then remembering the wererat across the hall, pulled his wand out of his sleeve and cast a silencing spell on the room. Once the room was secure against eavesdroppers, Harry said, "If things go to bad, I'm supposed to get you and get the hell out of here, get you somewhere safe."

Anita paled. She had to take a couple of breaths herself before she could respond. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" she demanded.

"No, I'm not!" Harry shot back. "If things get fucked up, you're not going to be able to shoot your way out of here! I can blow a hole in the wall, maybe get us to the Ministry of Magic. We'd be safe from vampires there."

Anita took another step toward Harry, hands clenched at her sides. "Jean-Claude asked you to do this?" she asked, voice gone cold. Harry nodded. "And for what fucking reason didn't either of you tell me?"

"Because he knew you'd freak out," Harry said. "It probably wouldn't happen, but just in case--"

Anita whirled around and stalked across the room, anger radiating from her with every movement. "God damn Jean-Claude!" she shouted. "And damn you too! What the fuck were you thinking? That I'd go easily, without Jason?"

"Who said anything about leaving Jason?" Harry shouted back.

"You said Jean-Claude--"

"You can't think I'd leave Jason behind?" Jason's head shot up, confusion on his features. He'd known about Jean-Claude's plans, and this was new to him. "In what world would you leave without Jason? Of course I'd make sure he was with us!"

Anita was momentarily robbed of something to say. Harry pushed his hands through his carefully brushed hair, making it stand up on end.

"I can't not do something, Anita, if you're in danger, okay? I need you to know that," he pleaded. "I know you'll do everything you can, but if things go bad, we're in a bad place here, with bad people all around us. We need a way out."

"I don't like this idea," Anita said. She'd stopped by Jason and put her hands on his shoulders. He took her hand and rubbed his cheek against it, although he only had eyes for Harry.

"You don't have to like it," Harry said. "But if you're willing to do... what you're willing to do, for me, the very least I can do it have a way to protect you if it messes up."

Anita let Jason touch her hand for a few more moments. "I can't believe Jean-Claude didn't tell me about this," she complained.

Jason craned his head up to look at her. "He didn't want you to know how worried he was," he said.

"Like that's a good reason," Anita said. She nudged Jason to stand up, then took his seat in front of the mirror. Jason went to get the hairdryer and brush from the sofa.

Harry circled around until he stood behind Anita. She stared at him in the mirror. No longer did she look like a young child. Now, she was all woman, and very dangerous.

"I can't let you come to harm, because of me," Harry said softly, for her ears only.

She gazed at his reflection. "I won't." Her eyes slid to the side, to where Jason was untangling the hairdryer's cord. "If anything happens..."

"I can probably get two of you out," Harry said.

"Jason and Requiem." Her dark eyes were burning, but Harry shook his head. He might not have had the force of will that Anita did, but he knew what he had to do.

"You and Jason."

"Requiem--"

"I don't care about him like I care about you," Harry blurted. Anita's eyes grew wide in her face. "You and Jason," Harry hastily amended. "Requiem's a vampire, he knew how dangerous it was going to be here."

"No," Anita said, shaking her head.

"Do you think I feel good about this?" Harry asked, crouching beside the chair. The wolf in him wanted her approval, and knew he'd never get it. Unlike the wolf, that wouldn't change his mind. "Requiem's the best able to protect himself. He's a powerful vampire. You're powerful, but you're still human."

Anita's fingers gripped the chair arms hard as she stared silently at Harry.

"Harry's right," Jason said, plugging in the hairdryer and standing behind Anita.

"I don't care if Harry's right," Anita said sharply.

"Well, it's what I'm doing," Harry said, standing up. He flicked his wand to take down the silencing charm, and put his finger to his lips to indicate that Anita should stop talking about it. She narrowed her eyes at him, then abruptly stood up and stalked over to him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket to pull him down to her.

"Listen to me carefully," she said in a menacing whisper. "I am not happy. With you, with Jean-Claude, or with Jason. If there is trouble, we all walk out of here, or none of us do. You will not try and stop me from getting Requiem out. Do you understand?"

Harry swallowed. How could Anita be so mad at him for trying to protect her?

She shook him, a sharp little rattle. "Answer me!" she hissed.

"Fine!" Harry snapped, and jerked away from her. They glared at each other until Jason tentatively stepped up.

"Anita, we have to get you ready," he said cautiously.

Stiffly, Anita went back to the dressing table. Harry walked to the other end of the large room, not looking at Anita. She's being totally unfair! Harry thought. Requiem's a vampire, he can protect himself. Right?

He ran his fingers over the gilt scrolled wallpaper. He'd tried hard to make the right decision. He'd promised Jean-Claude that he'd look after Anita, if he could. Jason hadn't been part of the deal, but Harry had reasoned that Jean-Claude must have known that Anita wouldn't go anywhere without Jason, so it had to be in there. But Harry hadn't thought about Requiem.

The hairdryer started up, a soothing sound. Harry took a deep breath. The only reason Requiem's here is because of me, he recalled glumly. Anita's right. If Ron and, say, Mrs. Weasley, were with Harry, would Harry be okay with Anita leaving Mrs. Weasley in danger because she was able to take care of herself? Or would Harry want Anita to wait until both Ron and Mrs. Weasley were safe?

Harry squared his shoulders and walked back across the room, sitting on the edge of the couch beside the dressing table. Anita was very careful not to look at him, as Jason held a section of her hair up to the hair dryer.

"All of us or none of us," Harry said as way of apology. Anita glanced toward him, and gave him a tiny smile. He smiled back. The wolf in him was ridiculously pleased with her approval. How long will this animal thing last? Harry wondered, despairing.

"Harry, can you give me a hand?" Jason asked. "I forgot how long it takes to dry curly hair, and we are running out of time."

"And when was the last time you dried long curly hair?" Harry asked as he stood up.

"There was a Stephen thing. Don't ask," Jason said when he saw Anita's questioning expression.

"I don't even want to know," Harry said. He pulled out his wand and quickly uttered a spell Hermione had shown him, to dry his Quidditch clothes after a rainstorm. The water in Anita's hair fell to the ground with a splash, leaving her hair dry and Harry's shoes soaked. "Damn it."

"Serves you right," Jason said. "And thanks. We've got to get Anita presentable. Although I don't know if we've got nearly enough time for that," he said with a cheeky grin.

Anita glared at him. "I'm sitting right here!"

~*~

Harry stood beside Anita in the drafty hall, staring at the huge wooden door. The face of the ancient clock on the wall showed that it was one minute to ten.

"Do you know what we're going to do?" Anita asked.

"For the third time, yes," Harry said in a low voice. "We go in, act all nice for two hours, then eat, then you get bitten."

"Right." Anita smoothed her skirt under her hands nervously. She'd been so angry when Requiem had told her she could only carry knives with her tonight. Just because he could, Harry ran his eyes over her one more time. The dark red silk of the skirt dipped in at her waist, reaching up to cove her stomach and chest tightly. The dress only had thin straps running over her shoulders, exposing all of the shiny white scars on her arms and collarbone. Her hair was down, and Jason had run a thin gold thread around it to keep most of it out of her face. She looked amazing, and she was in absolutely no mood to hear that.

"It'll be fine," Harry reassured her. "What could go wrong?"

Anita whipped her head around, as the clock chimed the hour and the door began to open. "Why did you say that?" she hissed.

"Anita," Requiem said softly, and Anita faced the opening doors again, with a clenched jaw. Then the doors opened all the way, and Harry felt his stomach drop in surprise.

The underground room behind the doors was huge. No, Harry realized, "huge" was an understatement. The room, hewn out of solid rock, had to be larger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was so large that the number of people inside seemed insignificant. Then Anita took her first step forward, and Harry concentrated on keeping pace with her.

They walked as a group across the hard marble floor, the sound of Anita's shoes the only noise in the room. Requiem was on Anita's other side, with Jason bringing up the rear. The unnaturally still crowd lined the room, leading to the far end of the chamber, where a man sat on a raised dais, watching them approach.

Harry kept his eyes on that man, but every sense took in what was happening around him. The people in the room were mostly vampires, he knew, but there were also lycanthropes about. They didn't feel like wolves, or leopards, and Harry suspected that they were wererats, Christoff's animal to call.

Anita stopped about ten yards from the dais, and Harry got his first good look at the vampire everyone seemed to be so afraid of.

Christoff appeared rather ordinary-looking. He wasn't very tall. His hair was a flat brown, combed over his forehead. He didn't look young or old. Not a threat at all.

Then he spoke. "Anita," he said in a greeting. His voice moved over the room like an icy wind, carrying intense power with it. Suddenly, Harry understood why Jean-Claude had been so worried.

"Christoff," Anita said. A child, a little girl, sat primly on the edge of the step, watching them with malicious interest. On the other side of Christoff's chair, standing on the bottom step, stood an exotic-looking vampire draped in red and gold silks, gold jewellery twinned on every limb. At first Harry thought it was a woman, but on second glance, Harry wasn't so sure.

"You bring word from Jean-Claude, Master of St. Louis?" Christoff continued. His voice was no less cold, but his words curved up in mock surprise. A rustle of whispers rose up in the room. Harry refrained from turning his head to look at the chattering vampires. The danger was in front of him, not behind.

"I do." Anita lifted her chin. Silently, Harry steeled himself to be strong in case she needed him. "Jean-Claude has sent you greetings, and he wishes you all the best in your new city."

Christoff stared at her with flat brown eyes. The whispers slowly tapered off into a pregnant silence. "You will, of course, take my regards back to St. Louis to your master," he said slowly. His voice held no malice, but his words sent a thrill of adrenaline through Harry. "But you did not come all this way simply to bring that message."

Christoff leaned forward in his chair, and now his hungry gaze was all for Harry. For his part, Harry met Christoff's eyes unflinchingly. He felt the vampire's power push at him, but compared to Jean-Claude, a Sourde de Sang, Christoff was easy to hold at bay.

The power eased, and the vampire curled up the side of his mouth in a wry grimace. "Who are you, to come before my house?" he demanded.

This must be some part of the ceremony, Harry guessed, although Anita hadn't told him anything like this would be happening. "I am Harry," he said simply, sticking to his first name, just like Anita.

The girl on the dais at Christoff's feet burst into laughter. The sound sent a shiver down Harry's spine, but he closed his mouth and said nothing.

"The great Harry Potter comes before my house," Christoff said after the girl's laughter died away. "And why is this?"

Unease was giving way to panic. Harry had no idea what to do. He was about to turn his head to Anita, to see what she was doing, when Anita said, "Harry is under my protection."

That bit of information sent a shockwave through the watching crowd. Voices raised, loud and echoing in the hall, until Christoff yelled, "Silence!" The noise stopped instantly, as if someone had thrown a switch. "And why is he under your protection?" Christoff asked patiently.

Anita took a slow breath, then let it out through her nose. "Harry's grandfather is... tied to me," she said, trying to stay calm. "So Harry is mine to protect."

"And you come seeking his leave, in London," Christoff said.

Staring hard at Christoff, Harry had a moment of clarity. All the bits of conversation he'd had with Jason and Jean-Claude over the past week suddenly fell into place, as if he'd had a thought, not his own, that pulled it all together. Christoff craved power, everyone said, power and respectability. Maybe, just maybe...

Harry took a step forward, hands at his side. Christoff's eyes flew to him, as the child on the steps jerked forward, ready to leap at Harry if he moved further.

"I want to thank you, Christoff, for your hospitality," Harry said, ignoring the glare Anita was shooting his way. "It is much appreciated."

Christoff tilted his head as he looked at Harry. The man appeared genuinely puzzled by Harry's behaviour. "Who is your grandfather?" Christoff asked.

Harry felt pressure on his wrist. Anita had taken hold of his hand, and was pushing gently on his skin. Hoping he was reading her correctly, Harry answered, "Damian." It was the only name he had. He didn't know if his grandfather even had a last name.

Although, from the voices moving around the room, no last name was necessary. The voices swept Damian's name around in a gale, curious and uncertain, until Christoff silenced them with a glance.

"Damian, most recently of Moroven's kiss." When the name of Damian's former master fell from Christoff's lips, the room fell cold. Not for the first time, Harry wondered why Moroven scared so many people like this.

Harry stepped back, until he was level with Anita and Requiem once more. Anita didn't let go of his hand, however.

Christoff beckoned with his hand, and the girl on the steps bounced to her feet and went to his side. Standing, she was as tall as he was seated. "This is Elsa, my human servant," Christoff said.

Anita's hand tightened around Harry's so hard he almost cried out. He squeezed back, partly to let her know what she was doing, and partly to avoid having his hand hurt. She let go almost immediately, but Harry could sense her anger. He squeezed her hand again in warning.

Christoff seemed more than amused by the whole thing. He put one hand on Elsa's back, and held the other out toward the silk-swathed vampire on the steps. "This is Siva, a visitor in my city from the East," he said. "Anita, you and your people are welcome in my house," he said, signalling with his hand. The faint sounds of music started up. "Please, enjoy my hospitality." With that, he stood and walked down the dais, the girl at his side. They walked past Anita and her group. As they passed, Harry felt a strange and yet familiar vibe coming from Elsa. It was so familiar he felt he should know what it was, but the knowledge eluded him.

The crowd began to stir and mingle, until Master and servant were swallowed up by the guests.

Anita let out a short breath, a silent scream, and dropped Harry's hand as Jason came over and touched Harry's back.

"Anita?" Jason asked softly, under the growing noise. She looked at him. "What's wrong? Is it the kid?"

She nodded tightly. Requiem held out his arm to her. "Any discussion of Christoff's human servant should take place at a later time," he suggested. "I suggest we go partake in the reception. If we do not, it will seem as if we are rejecting Christoff's hospitality. That is inadvisable."

"Right," Anita muttered. "Harry, Jason, you stick to us like glue, got it?" Jason smiled faintly, and Harry blinked at Anita, exhausted. The two-hour nap he'd had that afternoon no longer seemed adequate. And he had to deal with at least four more hours of this?

Later, Harry's recollection of the reception was a blur. Vampires and lycanthropes and a strange collection of humans, Christoff's entourage, walked around them, ogling Harry and Anita. Harry didn't understand why any human would want to hang around such a place, but decided, watching the movements of the crowd, it had to be Christoff's power.

Christoff and his human servant didn't approach Anita's group again, but Siva, the vampire who had been on the dais with Christoff, approached them after about half an hour. Upon closer inspection, Harry decided that the vampire had to be a man. There was something about the vampire that felt a bit male.

"Siva," Requiem said. The vampire raised a hand in greeting. What Harry had thought was a gold bracelet shifted around, and slowly uncoiled. It was a thin white snake with a gold stripe painted on its back, Harry realized with a start.

"Greetings." It took Harry a moment to understand that the word, spoken in Parseltongue, did not come from the snake.

He looked at Siva, startled. "Hello," he replied.

Siva smiled lazily, perhaps amused by the bewilderment on Requiem's face. "I was told you were of my tongue," Siva said. "It has been so long since I have found one who properly speaks."

Harry gulped. "Have you been in England long?" he asked.

Siva waved his hand, setting the snake on his wrist into an angry hissing. "If you mean that thing that crawls in the forest, then I know of him," Siva said. "He does not understand his place."

Not disagreeing with Siva's low opinion of Voldemort, but not really reassured, Harry cast a glance at Anita. She was watching the exchange, wide-eyed and silent.

"There is a rumour, young one, that you have seen a basilisk?" Siva's tone was wistful, the same sort of way Hagrid spoke of dragons.

"I have," Harry said slowly.

Siva sighed. "I supposed you had to kill it," he said, his hissing morose. "A pity, but it is always the way it goes with humans."

"It was going to kill me and my friend!" Harry exclaimed. Unfortunately, Parseltongue tended to assign genders to all words, and 'friend' came out like 'mate.' Harry reddened when he realized that he'd inadvertently called the eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley his mate, but there was no other way to describe her.

Siva waved his hand again languidly. "The basilisks are an insane breed," he mused. "It takes a true master to guide one properly. Left alone... but let us speak of more important things." He gave Harry a sly smile. "I suppose you know why the Master has offered you his protection, for such meagre fare."

Bristling at the way Siva disregarded what Anita planned to do, but not sure if he should argue about it, Harry licked his lower lip. Their conversation had drawn quite a crowd, but he wasn't about to turn his attention from this vampire for even a moment. "I can't say I do."

Greatly amused now, Siva said a few more words to Harry in Parseltongue. He then drifted away, leaving a stunned Harry in his wake.

Anita slapped the back of Harry's hand to get his attention. "What was that?" she whispered fiercely.

"He, uh.... he's a Parselmouth," Harry said, trying to wrap his head around what Siva had told him.

"I got that much," Anita said. "What did he say?"

Harry looked around. "Not much," he said with a forced smile. He couldn't tell her what Siva had told him about Christoff, not with an audience. "It's nothing that will change anything tonight."

Requiem took Anita's arm, purposefully redirecting her attention to an approaching man. "Anita, I would like you to meet Wilhelm, the leader of the wererats of London," Requiem said. Harry wondered what Requiem knew, and why he looked so unhappy when Harry was talking with Siva.

"Ah, Requiem, you have been missed in London," Wilhelm said, his voice thick with a German accent. "You fled our master, and now you return willingly."

Requiem regarded the wererat coldly. "I accompany my Master's lady, as his third-in-command."

Wilhem made a tisking sound under his breath. "So I see." A man dressed in a sombre guard's uniform came up behind Wilhelm and whispered something in his ear. Wilhem glared at Requiem, then spun and walked into the crowd with the guard.

Jason let out a small sigh. "People come and go so quickly here," he said.

"No more movie quotes from you," Anita said as she nudged Requiem forward. "Let's go make more friends."

"Are friends people who don't eat you?" Harry muttered in Jason's ear as they followed Anita and Requiem.

"I sure hope so," Jason replied. "What do you think our friend to not-friend ratio is at the moment?"

Harry remembered what Siva told him, and let himself smile, just a little bit. "I think we're a bit ahead, right now."

~*~

The reception dragged on. Prepared for danger, the most horrifying thing Harry experienced was stilted conversation as Requiem introduced Anita to most of the vampires present. There was a lot of glaring, on all sides, and by the time the dinner bell chimed, Harry had a headache burning behind his eyes.

What Harry wasn't prepared for was the large number of vampires who referred to Christoff as Master. Requiem seemed to be a bit surprised as well, as they slowly began to get an idea of what a large territory Christoff had carved out for himself. He didn't just hold London; all of southern England seemed to answer to him now. Christoff seemed to be making himself quite the little kingdom.

When they sat down for dinner, Harry was so tired and his head hurt that he could barely swallow. Anita only picked at her food. She cast the occasional glance up at the head spot at the table, where Christoff sat beside Elsa. The girl was eating her way through several dishes, sampling each one. Christoff paid her no mind; he was watching Anita.

At one point, Jason leaned over to Harry. "Are you watching her?"

"Watching who?" Harry asked. "Anita?"

"No." Jason leaned even closer so his mouth was right next to Harry's ear. "The kid."

It took all of Harry's will power, but he didn't turn his head to look at Elsa right then and there. "No. Why?"

"Because she's glaring at you." Jason huffed into Harry's ear. "Like, I thought she was glaring at Anita, because Christoff's looking at Anita like she's a silk-wrapped tiramisu, but the kid's glaring at you like you kicked her puppy."

"Wonderful." Harry sat back up, stretching a kink out of his spine. Then he leaned over to his other side, and said to Anita, "You're not eating."

Anita took a sip of water. "If I eat before I give blood, I get sick to my stomach," she said, mouth hidden behind her glass. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." Harry said. "It's just..."

"What?"

"It all seems like a bit of a let-down, you know? Everyone's been going on about how dangerous this was going to be, and now it's the cocktail party from hell."

Anita set her glass down and carefully dabbed at the side of her mouth with a napkin, not smudging her lipstick. "It's not over until it's over."

"Sounds ominous."

"It usually is."

~*~

For all that the meal seemed to drag on forever, Harry was taken by surprise when Christoff rose to his feet. All conversation ceased.

"As a final show of his... regard," Christoff said silkily, "Jean-Claude has agreed to share his servant's blood with me."

Anita pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. Harry made to stand up as well, but Anita laid her hand on his shoulder. "Stay with Jason," she said, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Heart pounding in his chest, Harry watched, feeling helpless, as Anita slowly walked around the end of the table to meet Christoff in the middle of the room. She looked so tiny in her red dress, with her curling hair falling down her back, so brave, so strong, and in that moment she was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

Anita and Christoff met in the middle of the hall, and there was a moment where it seemed like neither was sure what to do. Then Anita pulled her hair to one side, baring her neck. Even from so far away, Harry saw the tiny tremor in her hand.

He wanted to jump up, to tell Christoff to leave Anita alone, to bite him instead, but he made himself stay seated. Before he left St. Louis, Jean-Claude had warned him against such a rash act. Anita's bite had been bargained, Jean-Claude said. If Harry threw himself in the middle of it, Christoff would drain him dry and never spare a moment's pity.

Hating Jean-Claude, and hating himself, Harry stayed seated. He dropped both hands to his lap, where he could draw his wand in a heartbeat if needed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted movement from Elsa, still seated in her chair. She had also dropped her hands below the tabletop, but Harry could make out that she was reaching inside one of her sleeves. In a flash, the feeling Harry had gotten as he'd passed her earlier in the evening made sense.

Elsa was a witch.

She might look about twelve, but that would explain why Christoff, a vampire who seemed to crave power above all, would take a little girl as his human servant. Harry didn't know much about what other reason Christoff might have taken her. He was aware Anita thought it was some sick sex thing, and that might still be it. But now Harry knew that he'd felt before. Elsa was a witch, just like Hermione and Ginny.

This really complicated things.

Harry made himself put his hands back on the tabletop and turn back to middle of the room. Christoff stood behind Anita, his hands lightly on Anita's shoulders as she tilted her head to one side. Her eyes, too big for her face, were traveling around the room. When she looked at Harry, he smiled encouragingly, trying to be as strong as she needed, wishing he could help her in some way.

Christoff bit down.

Anita tensed, but she didn't cry out, and she didn't panic. She kept eye contact with Harry as Christoff withdrew his teeth and set his mouth over the wound. How long can it take to swallow three mouthfuls of blood? Harry thought, growing more frantic as the seconds passed. Why isn't he finished yet?

After what seemed like forever, Christoff pulled back from Anita. He took two stumbling steps back, before he regained his feet.

The only sound in the dinning hall was Christoff's gasping breath. He blinked hard, then raised a shaking hand to his mouth. Wiping way the blood on his lips, Christoff looked covetously at Anita.

By now, Anita had turned to face Christoff. Her hand had crept down her skirt, to where Harry knew she had hidden a knife.

Suddenly, Christoff laughed drunkenly. "A fair trade indeed!" he said. He flung his hand toward Harry. "Harry Potter is welcome in my lands, under my protection, for ten years," Christoff continued. "His protector, Anita, has the same protection. They enjoy my hospitality."

With that, Christoff stalked back to his chair and slumped bonelessly down beside Elsa.

Anita walked carefully back to her place at the table, past the watching vampires and lycanthropes and humans, and sat down stiffly. Harry could smell the blood on her skin, and part of him wanted to lean over and lick it off her neck.

"Now what?" Harry asked instead, as the roar of conversation picked back up around them.

"Now we wait for the evening to be over," Requiem said from Anita's other side. "Then we may leave."

Harry sat back in his chair. "Anita, are you okay?"

Anita had picked up her glass and was sipping at her water. "Yes."

Without being asked, Harry handed her his water glass when she was done with hers. She took it without comment. After a few moments, Harry asked, in a small voice, "Did it hurt?"

Anita finished with the second glass and set it on the table. "Yes," she said, almost inaudibly, as she adjusted a fork beside her plate.

Harry had no idea what to say.

~*~

It was almost three in the morning when Anita finally dragged everyone out of that room. Christoff had let them go, still giddy from the taste of her blood. Elsa had been watching Harry the entire time, as if he was something dangerous. Harry was glad to have a set of doors between the little witch and him. Her stare was just... disconcerting.

Requiem had promised to watch the door until sunrise, then Christoff's wererats would continue the job. After what Christoff had received from Anita that night, and after what he'd promised in front of so many witnesses, he would probably be in no hurry to renege on his side of the agreement.

That left Harry, Anita and Jason in a room with one large bed.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Harry said, yawning so wide he almost dislocated his jaw.

"Don't be stupid," Anita said, swaying slightly in place. "You and Jason take the bed. I'll take the couch."

Jason listened to the argument in silence while he pulled off his clothes and dropped them over a chair. When he was left in only his underwear, he pulled down the sheets and climbed into the centre of the bed. "Look, you two," Jason said finally, stretching out. "I'm tired. You're tired. Now take off your clothes and come to bed, okay?"

"Jason--" Anita started, but Jason was having none of it.

"You," he pointed at Harry. "Strip." He moved his hand to point at Anita. "You too. Then sleep."

"Jason!" Harry exclaimed. "How can you--"

Jason sat back up. "Can you two stop being you for a few hours?" he pleaded. "I don't know about you, but tonight scared the living fuck out of me, okay? I need to sleep, and I need you here."

Harry looked at Anita. She sighed. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"I wasn't kidding," Jason said. "You need to come to bed."

Harry snorted. "You're just trying to get me naked," he said, although he went bright red as the words left his mouth.

"Damned straight," Jason snarked. He lay back down. Harry stripped to his boxers, then dropped to the bed beside the werewolf. Jason tossed him part of the sheet, which Harry gratefully pulled up over his chest. "She's not going to molest you in the night," Jason said.

"I know that," Harry snapped. He pulled off his glasses and set them by the bed. It took his muscles a few minutes to relax. "But..."

"But what?" Jason asked.

"Is this okay? Us doing this?" Harry asked, staring up at the ceiling.

Jason rolled over onto his side. "Yes," he said with conviction. "What are you going to do, start groping Anita in the night?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, springing up. "Jason! How could you even think that?"

Jason shrugged. "See? She'd be the same way about molesting you in the dark. And I'll be here, like some big werewolf chaperone." He grinned tiredly. "Plus, I bite."

The door opened again slowly, and Anita came back in wearing the same blue robe she'd been wearing earlier. "You two fighting about something?" she asked.

"Harry's being a prude," Jason said absently, eyes closed. "He didn't want to sleep next to little old me."

Anita sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at Jason. "Do you blame him?" she asked. She let out a huge sigh. "I can't believe that it's finally over."

"Did it hurt a lot?" Harry asked, propping himself up on his elbow. "When Christoff bit you?"

"Not a lot," Anita said. She pulled her legs up on the bed and curled up against the headboard. She frowned. "I didn't want to open up myself to his power. But better that it hurt a little bit, than to accidentally have my necromancy backfire on Christoff."

"Backfire?" Jason mumbled. "Don't you have enough vampires tied to you?"

"Yes, I do," Anita said. She ran her hand gently over his hair. "But it was okay. I'll be fine." Glancing up at Harry, she said, "Now, are you going to tell me what that snaky conversation was with Siva?"

"Oh, that." Harry rolled onto his stomach, making sure the sheet still covered most of his body. "Siva asked me if I knew why Christoff wanted to offer me his protection."

Anita frowned again. "I thought that it was because of the deal with Jean-Claude," she said.

"Oh, it was," Harry said hastily. "But apparently, Christoff has been having a lot of trouble with Moroven, Damian's old master? She approached the Vampire Council about it, but they told her that it wasn't their problem."

Anita's mouth was hanging open. "Siva told you all this?" she demanded.

"Yeah. He thought it was funny."

"That's not funny, that's insane!" Anita exclaimed.

"I'm not done yet," Harry said. "Christoff had to get Council permission to offer me his protection, because Damian used to be Moroven's. Siva said that Christoff wanted to be able to say that a human, who was related to one of Moroven's vampires, had accepted his protection."

Anita went up on her knees, eyes flashing. "Do you mean to tell me that Christoff did this all as one big Council-approved fuck-you to Moroven?"

"That's what Siva said."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Anita said. "Christoff hates wizards, why would he do that for Harry?"

Harry reached for his glasses. "What are you talking about?" he asked, sitting up.

"Jean-Claude said Christoff hates wizards and witches," Anita told him.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Because his human servant is a witch."

"You mean that little girl?" Anita's voice was incredulous. "How do you know that?"

"I could feel it," Harry said, uncomfortable. "Like I can tell Jason's a werewolf, or Requiem's a vampire."

Anita stared at him for a heartbeat, then jumped off the bed. The door to the sitting room banged shut behind her.

"You know," Jason said mildly, "If you keep her talking, we are never going to get to sleep."

"She wanted to know," Harry said, affronted. He slid back down to the bed, removing his glasses once again.

"Uh huh," Jason murmured, eyes closing again.

After a few minutes, Anita slipped back through the bedroom door, face like a thundercloud. "I can't believe no one tells me these things!" she said to herself as she turned out the light. The room plunged into a soft darkness. "God-damned four-hundred-year-old human servants and rat-calling vampires."

The bed moved as Anita sat down on the other side of Jason. Harry stared up into the darkness, willing himself to feel sleepy. But as he felt the bed move as Anita laid down beside Jason, Harry felt wider awake than he had all day.

"Are you going to sleep in that robe?" Jason asked sleepy.

Anita, sounding defensive, said, "I was thinking about it."

Jason growled. "Stop being such a spaz. We're all clothes-wearing werewolves here, trying to get some sleep." Anita didn't move. "I promise not to grope you in the dark."

Anita sighed. "All right, you win," she said. The bed moved again, and even though it was dark, Harry closed his eyes as he listed to the soft sounds of fabric over fabric.

As Anita settled back onto the bed, Jason nudged Harry's shoulder. "Get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning."

Harry exhaled mightily. "I'm going to be leaving for school in the morning," he said, vaguely surprised.

This was going to be it. Tomorrow, he'd be back at his wizarding life, with no more Anita or Jason. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he had to blink mightily to hold them back. For the first time in his life, part of him didn't want to go back to Hogwarts.

Jason rolled onto his side and scooted closer to Harry, until his chest was touching Harry's arm. "But you can always come back to see us," he whispered. "Right?"

"Any time he wants," Anita voice floated softly in the darkness. "He's a part of the pack."

When Harry got himself back under control, Jason's breathing evened out into sleep. The weight of Jason's hand against Harry's shoulder felt weird, at first, but he was so tired that he stopped caring.

As Harry dozed, he felt another warm hand settle on his shoulder, beside Jason's arm. Harry fell asleep, feeling safer than he had in a very long time.

...tbc